The Necessary Dagger
We have mixed the old way with cornmeal and made crumbs of it with our hands Are you now able to retrieve it from the bellies of aimless pigeons? Promotion took too long. Our talents would have expired in the open sun. Children should inherit names that can withstand a tempest. Patience is never able to be redeemed at a moments notice. Trained populations are accustom to mortgaging the present for a line that goes no where. A solitary misunderstanding gives birth to an auspicious exercise of faith. A fatigued soul halts to restore his breath. Before you know it, some transient waits a foot behind him thinking he will receive bread or paid labor. Men wait all their lives in line for a mistake. The order you have pledged yourself to is a happy accident; a superstition of continuity. Look upon the pleasant dwellings. See to the lords of these estates. Their tables are filled with stuffed geese. Marble makes up a third of their furnishing. The laws make you a criminal eight times before it can imaging one misdemeanor against their dealings. They direct you like sheep dogs and meet out your pleasures. They have have tricked us all with honors that lead away from gold. Is it not strange for a teacher to dangle literature in front of an adept as he sits on gun powder? The well read are the first to choke on the fog of war. Have you ever witness children play with sticks imaging them to be swords? These young will flee a wasp. I see this very same likeness in scholars. They have remembered past harms with stunning detail. This education has yet to resist a single bullet. Reformation is the sweetener of choice. Many have drunken a toilet water so saccharine that pomegranate juice has become sour. We are transformed downward into worse iterations of our former glory. Butterflies cobble a dignified crawl together a mere aesthetic of flight. They are more grub worm than angel. This backward cocoon is spun from the most exquisite injustices. Suffering is not dangerous in the way originally advertised. None desire anguish. Yet, it's power to silken horrible outcome is worse than any burn or amputation. Look upon the graves. Review the grisliest hospital stays. Listen to heart rending stories long enough and the shape of a prize will appear before one gain is secured. Any conception of a turn is unserious. The strongest design of game is the ability to alternate action politely. There is a straighter line that cuts across blind oaths right into handfuls of bounty. Rank and file are but lily pads to the wiser frogs. If we march, are we not imitating soldiers? Are we traitors, or have we opted out of play?
