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Styx and Stones MAG
Aching time is soothed with lack of thought
Cognitive wheels are bent and ruined with concentration
I like the way that sounds ...
But words mean nothing to this culture, this world, it seems.
“Actions speak louder than words”
Then what I say has no bearing
Actions do speak louder ...
But when did it become all about volume?
I don’t like to yell.
I hate it when people shout ... it dislocates me.
What’s wrong with whispering?
I whispered in someone’s ear and they melted into my arms; fell into my embrace
I’ve never shouted to have someone come closer to my heart.
So why should it be about volume?
What about construction and execution?
Actions only speak louder when directed to the world at large ...
What if I only want to show what I have to one person?
Will I shout at them then, and frighten them away?
I will whisper, bring my breath, my feelings, my knowledge and not only my words to their minds, their ears, their skin.
I will make that person feel me with senses that most men do not comprehend
in 10 lifetimes.
I will make them feel fortunate and treasured, because should I do this for them,
that is what they are.
I will pique their curiosity only to infuse them with more knowledge
with which to become befuddled and make them reach outwardly to find me,
and pull back in to find they are not alone inside.
I’ll undress their actions with my words.
For words are parents to motions and bodies.
Actions gave birth to a more powerful creator that is both an action itself and
its own element.
Something so new even after thousands of years, completely indefinable
in its simple, gentle noise and caressing.
Caresses that make walls crumble and people fall to their knees.
People can shout all they want, hurting their minds, bodies and those of others.
I’ll remain steadfastly gentle, and I will be the victor in a contest with no prize.
I’ll keep talking, myself and men like Yeats, even as we fall to hell
and cross the river Styx.
That’s all I have to say about sticks and stones.