Is it a case of an onion where as I peel off one slippery layer after the other a torrent of tears stream down my cheeks as it washes my wounds, cleanses my soul? I can’t decide which is more bearable: to open or shut my eyes because either way the vision is blurred. As I continue to peel away the layers of this bulbous herb it loses its mass. Why does it drop its size? Where is its medicinal benefit? How can something so white and round be so paIe and cold?
Nevertheless, I keep on peeling. I press on and eventually I expose the concealed core. But to my surprise the centre is seedless. Is it barren? It flowers not?
Or is it a case of the macadamia nut where even though I have a big stone in my hand, I don’t have the power to fully crack open this hard shell? I firmly secure the nut on the ragged ground and no matter how hard and continuous I strike, the woody-brown nut keeps slipping away as if to try my patience? As I lose my temper I strike one last time and all gentleness is lost. As expected, eventually, I unintentionally apply too much force with my soft hand. I finally crack the hard shell, completely shattering the valued kernel into pieces, disintegrating its vital and basic make-up. Scattering the seed. But, again to my surprise the core is budless. It is desolate. It blossoms not.
Well, is there anything new under the sun? Perhaps it matters not, as one song goes:
Well, is there anything new under the sun? Perhaps it matters not, as one song goes:
it makes no difference
it is easier to believe
in this sweet madness
in this glorious sadness
that brings me to my knees.
Talk about surprises, such is life . . .!
#concelead intentions#
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