Under the Sun

You can be so very eloquent, and yet say nothing. You can revisit past love and still never truly feel its present or future. no matter how much you talk it up. You clearly believe your own publicity and seek agreements from others in your cleverly worded pleas for support. You can create theories that others are to blame, that others are at fault, that others are mad, and you can seek out philosophies that ease your fears and give you permission to persist.
Indeed, you can fashion a functional philosophy that serves you in what your fears and crafted personum bid you be. And you can even call it you.
But it isn’t you. It will never be you. And you can call me every name under the sun, diagnose me with every mental disease, even issue threats through others and yourself. But I’ll still greet the sun each morning, as I greet you and every other human soul. With playful respect and a love of the truth of you that you once spoke to me in moments where you dared risk the danger of finally reaching of playful freedom. It’s gentle, it’s light and what you fear is that its gentleness IS its strength. It is true strength; its the kiss of respect, that is not mediocre or unengaging; it is quite the opposite. And you fear it so.
Who would you really silence?

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