To be the precipice, that jumping off point in a communication of dilemma and hope,
as if constructed by thin wire coiled to a magnet, energy that transposes thought or invention,
instant reason, doubtless, is the intent of my being. Peripheral anecdotal quotes,
gestures forthright to amuse or construe validation of proposed quandaries are of no value.
Can I as Not God persuade the fortunes of Solomon’s children to rest the sword from antipathy,
the deeper wounds of calamity chewed by senseless oversight, pierced by the armor of the dark haven within,
to restore the valley to the fine earth of antiquity?
I must be always aware that I am the fortune of emperors and knaves,
and can hug the wind, hand grace to straw,
ford the river on the shepherd’s raft, but I search only to be found. – Sinz