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Oh, Toads! They sing, they swim, they burrow into the desert soil and emerge with the monsoon rains. Magical. And there’s more to their magic, too. See that glossy sheen? Native Americans (and other adventurous sorts) lick that shiny slime in an effort to experience it’s hallucinogenic properties. Risk-averse as I am, I’ve never indulged, but it’s curious, isn’t it? What would you do? “What’s the earthWith all it’s art, verse, music, worth–Compared with lovefound, gained, kept?”~ Robert Browning
Dear Robert, You got it mostly right. This world ~ with all it’s art, verse, music ~ simply would not be, without love. Love is the root of adornment and adoration. Love is the reason for it all. Love ~ found, gained, kept ~ is at the bottom of everything worthy of aspiration. Love is the aspiration. Romantic love, friendly love, passionate love, familial love. Love of the creator. Love for fellow men. Love for loving’s sake. I AM what I AM, you are what your are, we are who we are… in love, through love, by love, because of love. Deny love - deny yourself. Love. The opposite of fear. And we all know the only thing to fear is fear itself. Think on that for a bit.
Allusion to Persona, Carefully honed façade, Oppressive. ‘Elusion’ of the glare and Others’ clear sight, Imperative. Reputation’s risked. Hopes and dreams at stake. The threat: Reality. Careful observation would illuminate the truth. The image people love: Illusion. Disclosure, loss of luster, verity revealed, Risky. Can’t have that. What would the People read on Friday? Inspired by Three Word Wednesday...Glare, Luster, Threat Cougar. Our contemporary. An observation. ~ She’ll tackle your daughter. She’s after your son. She’s come undone. In an effort to defy the decay And disguise the rot, To feel something she never got, She pokes, lifts, fills and sucks (!) Until her face and body are no longer hers (in so many ways) And she can play make-believe with a boy She might have birthed. Graceful? Gracious, no! Inspired by Three Word Wednesday ...Decay, Graceful, Rot. Moving through the heavy fog of fear, I am encumbered by “What-if?” “What now?” “What next?” Eyes darting, arms outstretched, I search for safety, Grasp for what I know. Keenly, I listen. And hear each sound that ere was mere white noise. Panic sets down roots and grows. The fog of fear moves in, Compressing my space, My place, In My world. Denser. Thicker. Fed by confusion and alarm. Until I realize This fog is of my own creation. I, unprotected, unaware, let it in. I let it thrive, Feeding it the dung another spewed and I empowered. But no more. Take back your shit. Or let it rot and spoil the world in which you live. I, from here forward, refuse To let You In. Or let you win. Touché. |
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