Tuesday, April 24, 2007
strife among comrades
These palisades high, we scale in concert; these rivers deep, we ford with clever synchrony. Drenched half-way up our thighs, laughing in comaraderie, each slogging minute floats on the breeze as chaff. And sullen gravity's awesome pull, its base, cumbersome chains, can ne'er tie these spirits to the hollow earth. But long in company, we on occasion grow short in temper, and the bitterness of goals as yet unreached turns upon the open face of joy and darkens it with jealous spite. But to triumph was never for the one, and the wise man must bite his tongue until his mouth runs thick with blood. Amongst comrades, even these clouds pass. Amongst friends, a timely blink may mask this passing shadow. These grains of sand upon the seashore of the past, who can count such trivialities? With eyes turned forward, they crunch beneath the feet unnoticed.