You can’t agree
to be ordinary…
(of course,
you don’t have to.)
While sitting in that oblique park near the orange zone connector, a chap talking to the pigeons turned his tongue to me for a moment and confessed, “After more than a few decades of life on this planet, I finally seem to have developed a precise, delicate balance that is just right for me…and what’s even more bouncy is that I have no idea what it is.”
A man with a gift
generally assures others
that his talent
s no “mere gift.”
Over on this pretty speedy, young planet, they have a tale exemplary of how varying, partial impressions will produce diverse, incomplete conceptions of the same thing. It is in the telling of the story of “The Five Blind Men And The Computer.”
One more of these trans-mortal creatures slipped me his Olympian sentiments on the matter by saying that what he liked best about “being a divinity,” was that some of his grandchildren still mistook him for candy.
J.