The pomp of youth shall surely fade
"Now is the winter of our discontent..."
Ah to share the company of dear william were he still warm, a man after my own heart who's insights are timeless regarding the nature of men.
So zealous they march onward in the procession of causality. With every fiber of their being onward they go guided by the "light" they perceive. But what of that light? From what angle do they perceive it? Does it glow green, red, blue or white? Is perception forever the be the keeper, the moat, the chasm that guards the city of absolute truth?
Oh that we might wade through it to suffer the toils of perceived risk, danger, or harm.
Were be brave again and willing to greet whatever met us at the next horizon. Yet alas the sons of men either by preset, pretense, or precedence tread the roads paved by bodies of their fathers. The dogmas their path, their flawed reason mile markers all so foolishly accepted and led astray from the city into the forrest of relativity.
Irony is not without its place and justice its course, but what of the other angles? What would we see if we were 15 degrees east or 90 degrees North West?
The enemy of truth is complacency and its tree-line is vast; many are those that find themselves there, most that make their home in its foliage. Few are those who seek out what cannot be found by rote or writ and fewer those that find the way into the city, but all of those that do find truth never leave it and it never departs from them.
Ah to share the company of dear william were he still warm, a man after my own heart who's insights are timeless regarding the nature of men.
So zealous they march onward in the procession of causality. With every fiber of their being onward they go guided by the "light" they perceive. But what of that light? From what angle do they perceive it? Does it glow green, red, blue or white? Is perception forever the be the keeper, the moat, the chasm that guards the city of absolute truth?
Oh that we might wade through it to suffer the toils of perceived risk, danger, or harm.
Were be brave again and willing to greet whatever met us at the next horizon. Yet alas the sons of men either by preset, pretense, or precedence tread the roads paved by bodies of their fathers. The dogmas their path, their flawed reason mile markers all so foolishly accepted and led astray from the city into the forrest of relativity.
Irony is not without its place and justice its course, but what of the other angles? What would we see if we were 15 degrees east or 90 degrees North West?
The enemy of truth is complacency and its tree-line is vast; many are those that find themselves there, most that make their home in its foliage. Few are those who seek out what cannot be found by rote or writ and fewer those that find the way into the city, but all of those that do find truth never leave it and it never departs from them.