I Am Not Fighting For

I'm Conscious Of A Series Of Circles Working Its Way Through My Life. And At This Particular Moment I Have Come Round To The Beginning Of My Writing Cycle. It Begins With Poetry. There's Hardly A Day That Goes Past On Which I Don't Write Poetry.

There Is A Kind Of Expressed Love Which Is Easy To Subvert. When A Figure Is Loved For Their Deeds, Their Conquests, Their Heroism, Their Goodness, Their Love Of The People, These Are Easy Enough To Destroy... But There Is A Kind Of Love Which Is Felt For Apparently No Reason... A Love, Inspired, It Seems, By The Gods, Which It Is Impossible To Fight, Distort, Destroy, Or Weaken. In Fact, The Attempts To Destroy Such Loves Only Strengthen Them. And To Do Nothing Allows Them To Continue To Grow At Their Natural Pace, Inexoribly, Till This Love Becomes A Wide And Silent Adoration.

A People Are As Healthy And Confident As The Stories They Tell Themselves. Sick Storytellers Can Make Nations Sick. Without Stories We Would Go Mad. Life Would Lose It’s Moorings Or Orientation... Stories Can Conquer Fear, You Know. They Can Make The Heart Larger.

The Acknowledged Legislators Of The World Take The World As Given. They Dislike Mysteries, For Mysteries Cannot Be Coded, Or Legislated, And Wonder Cannot Be Made Into Law. And So These Legislators Police The Accepted Frontiers Of Things.

The Fact Of Storytelling Hints At A Fundamental Human Unease, Hints At Human Imperfection. Where There Is Perfection There Is No Story To Tell.