And instead of chapters, my brain issues poetry. I know Camille dislikes my political ranting. So this poem is for her. (Since I make many typos, I do intend the homophone in line three)
The Debate
Fire on the beach shines
a beacon to the frothy surf.
We dissent into chaos.
Subsumed in the sea
of past assumptions
to drown
breathing deep blue history.
We flounder on the sublime
and shout warning
at the young oarsmen
in brave boats,
"Excelsior!"
And one last time,
hand raised in final salute,
the waves break resolve
and claim us their own.
4 insightful comments:
You're getting way deep, friend. Love it!
Sometimes I feel over my head, Rick. :)
Heh. You can do all the political ranting you like! I just can't read all the ranting all my friends do online all the time.
I have very smart, opinionated friends. I like them that way. I just don't have much to say in response to their rants. Isn't that the nature of a rant? Rather one-sided?
Yes, that is the nature of the rant.
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