For my Wise and Generous Parents, to creatures of the Blue Planet:
oments of Clarity in the Intellectual Swamp
Cloaked by daily trite
Truth’s well-spring to wanton veiled -
Pure of heart may drink
My host’s internal cyclone quietens occasionally revealing clarity-etched thoughts of rare insight.
Capable maybe of tapping the head stream of human genius, occasionally his talent implies foothold in the flow of distraction comprising a frivolously squandered life.
In this better moment how closely he strays to truth of human condition.
I have often remarked (to myself, lacking even faint proxy to the Internet’s millions) that a curious Kippsian shroud cloaks me, securing by insignificance free passage through this wearisome mortal effort.
Mind torpor projects life in dully dim flickering on the pallid screen of experience, whereas others enjoy clarity and vibrance .. you get the idea.
As one initially incarnated into a club of cognoscenti, this blinking fool wonders what he missed and will he ever be privy to the real world of men: those in the know, who understand and effortlessly assume advantage in science, money, and the affairs of the world.
That there are people who keenly savvy this world of machines, arts, history, religion, politics, power, and finance, constitutes an oppressive toil akin to a roach finding inhabited the shade of every rock. In each specialty of mind or body sits already an unassailable expert in residence.
In each sphere of human power and influence looms an inevitable mocking, arrogant nemesis, astride coveted ground as Father ruled my childhood of impotence and incognizance.
Occasionally clouds of puzzlement part on a dazzling vista of comprehension, unveiling human affairs as a mere child’s game of blindfold against the Universe’s wiles.
Great intellects of humankind rove squabbling in some earthbound playpen oblivious to hidden cosmic intent.
These rare delicious moments expose eternity’s wise as insect imbeciles darting confused and naked in daylight’s sudden glare.
They fail the test of being human, on one hand, in mindless herd-like thrust, in resort to labeling ideas and opponents, drawing lines in the sand to fence ideological territory, to taunt one another across chasms of beliefs, to tribally send youth to slaughter for ideas abed perverted morals.
On the other, they fail the test of being animal as servants, not masters, of their tools, too proud of dextrous deliverance, besotted and hypnotized by linguistic gymnastics, in awe of semantics yet impervious to its emotional base.
Were I a God I should strike humans mute and sans symbolism, even lose the layer of self-awareness delicately named ‘insight.’
Civilization masquerades as a duel for personal advantage, unwittingly played more forcefully by the smarter, who should know better.
Sometimes I feel a giant among them.
Revered parents, I think he’s reading my mind :0)
