VIRESCENT

I am not new at this, ok perhaps I am.     I should be most practiced what with all the words I have crowded together year after year.    I am not sure how to judge both my self and my attending experience.   I have found again and again, year after year, that for each thought or idea grasped two will slip through my fingers.     The more I know the more sure I know less.      I am not new in this considering of mine but I have to find fresh ideas to lay before you, ideas that are often at first unpalatable; thoughts that seem but moss on stones, my passion for understanding growth that gives.   Thank you for listening.   Most have decided it was not worth the trouble.    I plant and plant, till and weed, water and thin.    But with what fruit do I fill this empty cornucopia?    With who shall I share our bounty?   I could find reasons to turn them all away as unworthy.   I would embrace each and every one who overcomes all the cultural rules regarding truth.   Do I express truth?    I am not even sure it is worth the effort.    You see I am not sure that this green tint is from new growth budding forth or just the accumulated moss of the undisturbed.    What I need are a pair of glasses that frame all in shades virescent.

I clearly remember the other kids asking, with that bewildered look I have come to know all to well, why do you use such big words?   I see it in eyes even now thirty five years later, only they no longer are brave enough to ask.   Have I cheated them and myself dumbing me down?    Green glasses.    I just drop down my shades and smile; they look great now.   Sadness and weakness, I wish I could stand up strong enough to need no shade, no protection from the onslaught of ignorance keeping us from joining hands, from joining minds, from welding unions of blood and muscels of heart; join arms and legs to start.   But I am scared.    I talk and talk to my brothers and sisters but they are too afraid and disillusioned to fight for any idea but the thin and shallow gluing  those ideas to their eyes.   

Yes but, Is their shallow not another's deep. Who am I and what do I have to offer, is my house not less glass.   Yes, I know; green glass.  It must be those polarized glasses of theirs that align: left and right, black and white, husband, wife, lover, child, embryo; off the deep end they all go. They and  them; us and we?  How am I to judge?   

M. Paul