Foolhardy it seems,
one ant to sup on an elephant for tea,
yet impossibility bleeds
and life’s secrets supersede,
with his extended family
gathered for the feast,
short work of that poor beast.
Far more tangents
than thoughts in question,
proffer different realities, intentions,
and quick we are to quote the impossible
just before it is breached,
agog we are, no speech,
realising anything is possible.
Judgement is a bad habit,
for what do we know,
a bystander with limited experience,
yet we are so fast to take a stand,
when tangents lead us to alternate lands,
where assumptions are petty,
and reality expanding.
Hold that tongue,
for it speaks not of truth,
just a stab in the dark, a ruse,
for which we are so often blamed,
when truth plays its secret game,
and proves us wrong,
just how strong is our confidence?
The beauty of life is its unpredictability,
our solid ground like sand, so silly,
when truth evolves with our perceptions,
best we think and watch, be respectable,
understanding is gleaned over time,
and knowledge in increments is imbibed
by a thirsty mind.
Tony DeLorger © 2017