Authors.com2024-03-29T01:52:57ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonanhttp://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/1547956196?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1http://www.authors.com/forum/topic/listForContributor?user=0pvstomdqgd29&%3Bpage=2&feed=yes&xn_auth=noThere Is But One True City Of Sanctuary Part Threetag:www.authors.com,2024-02-17:3798404:Topic:3501632024-02-17T17:37:53.424ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: F. John Surells</p>
<p>As I sit amongst these empty chairs, time’s reflections filter in through the glass that’s near me, and settle quietly but importantly around me. And with a mind which I know will soon be looking piercingly backward, before any past thoughts can revisit, I submit a prayer of thankfulness for the fact that it’s a sunny day. And it’s a quiet day, both inward here where I am, and outward, at least as far as I can see. Still, I know much noise does exist – out…</p>
<p>Written By: F. John Surells</p>
<p>As I sit amongst these empty chairs, time’s reflections filter in through the glass that’s near me, and settle quietly but importantly around me. And with a mind which I know will soon be looking piercingly backward, before any past thoughts can revisit, I submit a prayer of thankfulness for the fact that it’s a sunny day. And it’s a quiet day, both inward here where I am, and outward, at least as far as I can see. Still, I know much noise does exist – out there – out beyond my current scope of reality and imagination. <br/> But I can truthfully tell you that in my comprehension the peacefulness which surrounds me now, assures me that mine was a victory in the end; yet only a personal one, for all must individually participate in the so-called game of life in which many necessary restraints are often ignored, and many bogus rules are often crafted. Still, I wish I could impress upon you how significant this current moment’s lack of distortion is. It exemplifies my guess that one subjective era of conduct has ended, and signifies my acknowledgement of the fact that another will now need to begin. And God, I’m thinking now of the ramifications of such a new beginning. And just now I’m experiencing sobering thoughts! Their possible reconfiguration of character shocks me psychologically, and escorts me mentally backward to many happy memories, but also brings to the fore the sense of anguish I know because of the fact that Lucifer accomplished much during my years of existence. <br/> But, as I said, it appears now that one era has ended and another has begun. And, as I’m thinking about my approach to this new beginning, I’m remembering what Orlon spoke about in Part Two of this discussion. He said that we (meaning all mortals) must never allow self-pity to be our life’s commander. And thus, I’ve decided that for every time we mentally find ourselves with the Romans at Teutoburg Forest, or with the Confederates at Gettysburg, or sailing aboard the Titanic on an icy Atlantic, we should also remember that day at The Louvre when Mona Lisa took leave of her so-called “mystic smile” and winked at us. <br/>
And believing that, I’ll try to convey how simply free I feel today. Yes, I feel free, perhaps not completely from societal responsibilities of commission and omission, but at least liberated – liberated in one’s mind. And I can say to the man looking back at me that I’m not especially concerned about any performances on any screens, stages or playing fields, nor within any bedrooms. I’ve learned that time’s unfettered passage is all that will remain of any significance upon this planet in all those temporal eras that lie ahead. But, I do believe that a Divine Master will stop earthly time at some point. And when it’s stopped, I know not if it shall ever begin again as we experience it now. But, for those who’ve known its previous continuance, in a court of eternal judgment, their deeds committed and left undone will be evaluated before the onset of an everlasting era. <br/>
Over the years I’ve been criticized for using the analogy of life to a card game. Yet, I fail to see how it’s not valid. When we sit down at the table is when we’re born into a real world around us. And when the cards are dealt is when our talents and possibilities to achieve in the future first become our birthright. And then of course the actual playing of the cards represents our decisions to live our lives as we choose. But for some the analogy is invalid in that in some games one can trade one’s first held cards for others, while in most games one must play what one’s been dealt. And, for me personally – oh the richness of that diversion from true analogy! Oh the awareness it brings to the fact that life is so alive! And yes, sometimes events occur which can drastically alter life’s pre-planned course. <br/>
And how relevant is the second half of that previous paragraph to me today. I’m trying to write a Part Three to this disclosure which is entitled for our Sanctuary City, and already now I know there’s too much to be said here in one submission! Thus, a Part Four will be necessitated! And I don’t know how well that will “sit” with our city’s mayor George Jennifer, especially since he, through Rashon and Orlon, promised initially that the entire Sanctuary City submissions would be completed in one part! And, later, if I’m not mistaken, he and they then vowed that surely the entire piece would end with a Part Three. Well, I’m sorry, but I think I’ll need a Part Three to emphasize the more “down to Earth” aspects of life in our city and nation, and I’ll require a Part Four to relate some examples of how bizarre life can be here where I daily search for order amongst degradations. <br/>
So, just now I’m embarrassed. I feel belittled to have failed to complete this task in a concise and orderly fashion. And yet, the more I say about this topic, the more I ironically add to the reason for its necessity! Thus, I’m somewhat confused as well as dispirited. And I’m noticing that my current confusion is “opening a portal in my mind” so to speak! Just now I’m realizing that confusion is one of the main components of creativity. And I guess it’s this realization that I’ll allude to later in this piece (somewhere in either Part Three or Part Four) when I’ll speak about what happens to one when one understands that an era has ended. <br/>
But, those of us who live in this city are, I suppose one could say, symbolic representations of all the mortals one might meet along one’s earthly journey. And, we’re here, I think to show mankind how peace can be found individually, within oneself. And since we’ve been granted a clear assessment of eternity, we wish only to be a part of our Lord’s harvest someday. Yet, until then we’ll wait for every summer’s soul appeasement, and admit we know that both good and evil have been sown in time’s temporal vineyard of reflections. <br/>
And, as you know, reflections concerning the past, as well as musings about the present and future, lead to decisions. And our city’s mayor, George Jennifer, has said that except for possible infrequent, and in his opinion necessary postings, the various parts of “Sanctuary City” will be the last in a series of fairly regular submissions. And thus, at this time I’ll say a heartfelt goodbye on behalf of myself, our mayor, Orlon, Rashon, and all those others who’ve come to know you via these posts. But, while it’s difficult to say farewell to friends, it’s also sad to remember bygone places, things and ways of life. <br/>
So, as I prepare to end here, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that may God forgive me if, in prior postings, I’ve failed to impress upon the Americans of today (and especially those of younger and mid-aged years) what a necessity it is that the U.S. secure its borders from foreign carpetbaggers soon. As someone who’s trying to live a good and fruitful life, and who believes one should work for one’s living rather than sneak into someone else’s territory and then attempt to live off the labors of the owners of that territory, aren’t you scared when you see pictures of the great masses gathering at your nation’s border? What will become of those people someday if they’re allowed to remain in the U.S.? Surely, they’ve already brought much disease, crime, poverty, and most likely hatred into your nation. <br/>
But today it seems that many legislators (especially those of a liberal nature) want to see how many bodies can be packed inside a nation before such packing causes either the death of those bodies, or the downfall of the entire nation, or both. And don’t believe your nation’s leaders when they say they can’t stop illegal immigration. A very high wall could be built along the nation’s southern border or, at least a strong military presence could be stationed across it. And then, should some still manage to enter illegally, they should be returned to their homelands, or incarcerated here upon their capture. <br/>
And, don’t be fooled by the failure of the recent political legislation which supposedly ended the immigration problem. That bill wouldn’t have satisfactorily addressed illegal immigration. It was actually designed to aid the Democratic Party’s effort in the upcoming presidential election. Also, remember this, if you really want to curb illegal immigration, do you appoint as the leader of the effort someone who shares an ethnicity with the violators? <br/>
But, all that’s been said here doesn’t negate our belief in legal immigration. We still support those who, for whatever reason, feel they would be more productive in a foreign land; that is, as long as they follow that nation’s immigration laws. And, before we end here, let’s emphasize how imperative it is that the U.S. elect a conservative president soon. Look around you. What do you see? What you see is mass shootings, and a general disregard for law and order here at home, and blatant violations of territorial and human rights abroad.</p> There is But One True City Of Sanctuary Part One and Part Twotag:www.authors.com,2023-12-22:3798404:Topic:3494112023-12-22T15:38:25.607ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Rashon Leyf (Part One) and Orlon Braem (Part Two)</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>Today, if not in a verifiable realness, then at least in a satisfying imagination, I’ve come to a tolerable acknowledgement of the relevance of all that’s occurred in the past, is occurring in the present, and may yet happen. And no one I think knows what should be considered a worthwhile understanding; nor does anyone understand what, or how much knowledge should be considered worthwhile to possess. But…</p>
<p>Written By: Rashon Leyf (Part One) and Orlon Braem (Part Two)</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>Today, if not in a verifiable realness, then at least in a satisfying imagination, I’ve come to a tolerable acknowledgement of the relevance of all that’s occurred in the past, is occurring in the present, and may yet happen. And no one I think knows what should be considered a worthwhile understanding; nor does anyone understand what, or how much knowledge should be considered worthwhile to possess. But when I look at the world I see today, I know then that much of Earth’s past, present and future is unknown to me. It’s hidden from me. And yet, I’m so aware that my basic ongoing struggle is to simply navigate through the moments of the present. And yes, I’ve lived through an enormously small portion of the past, and the future will be mine in a very small installment. <br/> Not long ago, when our city’s mayor George Jennifer informed me that “One True City Of Sanctuary” would be the last in what’s come to be a rather long series of internet postings, he said he envisioned it to be a disclosure of three parts. But he also said that as time passed, some other postings might yet appear, should their publication be deemed necessary by what he termed his “superiors from other earthly realities.”<br/> Well, apparently before we’ve even been allowed to “sign off” (as some people say) here, such a necessity has arisen! “One True City Of Sanctuary” was to have been a three part discussion written by myself (Part One), Orlon Braem (Part Two) and F. John Surells (Part Three). But when the various parts were received by our mayor, he determined that John’s Part Three would render the entire piece too long for submission. Yet, since he liked all of John’s words, he decided that rather than edit them, he’d simply use them as a separate posting. And he then informed me to edit my previously written Part One, to include within it what I’ve just divulged. Thus, welcome to what I guess will be the second to last in what’s become a rather long, yet in my opinion, well timed series of internet postings. Oh, and the mayor wants to apologize for previously informing readers that this would be the last disclosure. He said to me “Funny how easily plans believed to have been cast in stone can sometimes be broken. Oh, and Rashon, please remember to inform the readers that we reserve the right to publish yet again – down the road – especially since no one yet knows what the upcoming presidential campaigns will foist upon the American public.”<br/>
So, anyway. I suppose it’s rather unfortunate that a series of writings is basically ending. But, I feel it’s important to remember that perhaps the greatest topic that’s always been stressed in this forum is that people, places, and things change as years and eras pass. And yet, despite the truth of that previous statement, I feel it’s imperative for mortals to hold fast to those “realities of life upon Planet Earth” which have proven themselves to be of the utmost necessity to mankind as a whole. And although it may seem arrogant, or overly patriotic to say this, I think the continuance of the superiority of the United States Of America amongst all other nations should be a hoped for development in the decades and even perhaps centuries to come. But why would one say that? Simply, because the U.S. has shown itself to be a great mitigator of worldwide problems.<br/>
Still, as years have passed, the great American nation has become infiltrated by massive numbers of foreigners who, despite what anyone says, will never be able to keep the U.S. as the world’s leader should they ever become its dominant ethnic majority. Yes America, if you don’t stop illegal immigration soon, eventually The United States Of America will become a Hispanic nation, joining all those others to its’ south. And, as dreadful as it is to ponder, who’s to say that at such a time, bogus reparations may not be sought from what had previously been America’s majority ethnic group?<br/>
So, to stop that development is the challenge that we here in “the city” now leave to you the populace of the states in America, as we ourselves fade from a written spotlight. But of course time will continue on here as it will elsewhere. Yet our dedication here, where the outside world impacts us minimally, will be to continue on in the great lifestyle of the individual.</p>
<p>PART TWO</p>
<p>When I was a child, I lived in fear of all that surrounded me. My life was stressful because those I shared it with didn’t fully understand the specialness of the city in which we lived. And I feared that the life form that continued to breathe within me then, was but a phantom of all it probably should have been. But after I’d grown to adulthood, one day I received a call from our city’s then mayor Ralph Hawk. He told me that besides being mayor of our city, he was also the leader of a group of what he termed “underground types” who had recently been establishing residence along the northern banks of the river which divides our city economically as well as geographically. <br/> And as you know, I accepted Ralph’s invitation to join the artful types by the river. But whether I was worthy to be counted among them, or whether my words were ever of any value to mankind, still isn’t known. Maybe someday some of what I’ve said, done and written will be found to contain some societal, spiritual, humanistic, or God only knows what sort of merit. Nonetheless, I guess that’s all I can hope for now, and from this day onward, all I’ll be able to live for. But I must not allow myself to find a scapegoat within the sorrow induced by pity.<br/> Oh, and self-pity is such a demon! Yet I wonder if people often fail to note its great strength and influence. And I also wonder if they sometimes designate the blame for wrongful actions to it. But yes, we do know some of self-pity’s manifestations. Along the roadways of life we spot it as a driver out of gas, stuck in a ditch, stymied by a flattened tire, or involved in accidental mishaps – but not accidents of a truly dire nature – not those in which someone was really injured or killed. No, self-pity is too weak a force to have become involved in such developments. For whenever truly heinous acts or crimes have been committed, self-pity has turned over the commandeering of life’s vehicle to other dreadful emotions worse than itself. And yes, we’ve also known them. They’re such as jealousy, despair, anger, or a few others which are the most tempting jewels sent forth from the haven of damnation to terrorize mankind. But of course whenever those dread emotions may have succeeded in their quest to lure mortals into the perpetration of various evils or debasements, they’ve been pursued down the highways of existence by the police forces of law, order, civility, and human rights.<br/>
But I’d have to say that, as is the case with most I suppose, my outlooks on life have been substantially founded upon my interactions with those of the older generations still alive while I was young. And I’ve always believed that my parents’ generation, the so-called “baby-boomers” felt the same about their parents’ generation as I do about them. I’ve heard it said that living through the Great Depression and the second great war cast a cloud of pessimism, and even a lack of the desire of advancement upon that generation (my grandparents). And probably, because it had become fearful of spending much money, that generation also became fairly conservative as regarded its lifestyle or, perhaps we might accept the fact than many of that generation were conservative socially, while being liberal politically; and that can be a dangerous mix, especially when the resulting confused, and frankly hypocritical mindset is eventually bequeathed to future generations.<br/>
And that mindset has, I fear, promoted mediocrity, and discouraged personal advancement. And thus, life today it seems is being lived exceedingly more and more to placate the non-concerned, the non-informed, and most dangerous of all, the careless. And it seems we now live in a society in which all humans are encouraged to be the same. And yet, despite all attempts made to “level the playing field” (God, that’s a ghastly phrase!) over, oh, let’s say the last seventy or so years, so much disparity still exists between each and every human! But my main criticism of those who are sanctioning and implementing such attempts, is that I fear they’re always too concerned with what they consider to be “chances to succeed,” rather than with the innate differences of ability which exist between all mortals. <br/>
And, amidst all my passing thoughts and realizations lies the brutal fact that time continues, and ours is always less and less of it. And all those goals that we and others had – were they only rays of sunshine quickly clouded? And who were the really great mortals? Were they the dictators such as Stalin? Or were they the conquerors such as Alexander? And was Alexander really great? <br/>
Of course many say that “the commoners” are really the individuals who are living correctly. But personally, my heroes have always been those mortals I’ve considered to be living “carefully.” Still, of course mine has also always been a troubled sense of questioning. And, because of such temporal confusion, I’ve always clung to the appeasing truths and falsehoods of “the city.”</p> Cliched Codes: I'm Not A Teenager Anymoretag:www.authors.com,2023-11-11:3798404:Topic:3495602023-11-11T16:08:25.618ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Co Vet</p>
<p>I’d like to begin these words by thanking Mayor George Jennifer and his, as he terms them “supervisors from other earthly realities” for permitting me, for a second time now, to expand upon some miscellaneous thoughts in this his city’s primary forum. But, in truth, while I am sincerely grateful for this second written opportunity, I’m also again displeased that the mayor has once more denied my physical presence within his city’s limits. “Why won’t you allow me to…</p>
<p>Written By: Co Vet</p>
<p>I’d like to begin these words by thanking Mayor George Jennifer and his, as he terms them “supervisors from other earthly realities” for permitting me, for a second time now, to expand upon some miscellaneous thoughts in this his city’s primary forum. But, in truth, while I am sincerely grateful for this second written opportunity, I’m also again displeased that the mayor has once more denied my physical presence within his city’s limits. “Why won’t you allow me to meet you and some of the residents of your city?” I asked him via a telephone conversation.<br/> “We’re afraid that your physical presence here among us might be so dominating as to actually overwhelm us health-wise” he replied.<br/> Thus, I guess once again my visit to the city will be done compositionally rather than in person. And I’ve heard that there were some who, after I’d submitted my first installment to this forum, expressed their disapproval that I’d been allowed to access them via written words. Nevertheless, I feel I can say without boasting, that the impact I’ve had worldwide warrants my second prosal opportunity here. And I know that, well, almost everyone still affixes the number nineteen to me. And that doesn’t bother me, but time does continue on; and people, and other physical entities do change with its passage. And personally, I guess I’d say that my most significant change has been that lately I’ve been trying to appear in “variant versions” of myself! And yet, even though everyone still envisions me as being nineteen, I’m not a teenager anymore.<br/>
And I know that rightfully, youthful advice givers aren’t often taken seriously because at an early point in their lives they simply haven’t lived long enough to have accrued a meaningful amount of real world knowledge. Thus, for those of us of fewer years, it’s probably better to listen than try to be heard. But, in my personal case, of course I’ve been an unfortunate exception to the rule just stated. And I think I can truthfully say that I’ve already done enough to have cast an everlasting mark upon the history of mankind! But yet, ironic and untrue as it certainly seems, my wishes are not diabolical. In fact, I say this to the people of planet Earth: Take care of business! Keep your human population from expanding beyond its capability to sustain itself; and, facilitate the peaceful passage of time by acknowledging that population’s innate personal, physical, mental, societal, and territorial rights. <br/>
And yes, I believe that many times what people don’t know doesn’t hurt them. Still, I also know all the evil I’ve instigated. Thus, these words are my apology for all that’s happened on my watch. And they’re my petition to a truthful Lord: Please grant mercy and forgiveness. And please comfort those who’ve, at my doing, suffered and recovered. And ease the pain of those who now remain after one or more of their loved ones have slipped… But I’m not a teenager anymore.<br/>
And I suppose if I should humbly ask that all my wrongs would be absolved, I’d need to counter both circumstantial and verifiable evidence in the court of eternal determination. At nineteen, I changed the world. But I’m not nineteen anymore, though the number behind my professional name still says I am.<br/>
And will my beginnings ever be truthfully learned of? And if indeed I’m someday found out as having been purposely loosed upon mankind, what will mankind’s reaction to that finding be? And of course I know how I began, but to use another relevant cliché “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”<br/>
And although I’ve only lived twenty years now, that’s been enough for me to know that many who’ve lived much longer than I still can’t verbalize, let alone answer any of the great questions which have held massive significance during their lifetimes. But I think as years pass, humans find themselves analyzing acts of both great sin and godliness as they attempt to battle various states of mind which portend fear of their nation’s, as we’ll as the entire world’s future. <br/>
But I don’t expect mortals to pity me; not after what I’ve done! Yet, while my particular type of illness has caused great physical harm and/or death, it’s also extracted a mental toll on me personally, as I’m sure, if you’ve read these words thus far, you can deduce for yourself.<br/>
Oh, and then with a mind so liberated, so unencumbered, and so unconcerned about what others may think or say, I often ponder words which somehow concern non-reality, but which are based in reality. And I’ve come to believe that all forms of art, that is, all that’s read (literature), viewed live (all types of performance art except music), listened to (music – live or recorded), or viewed in non-live performance settings (painted art, drawn art, sculpture, etc..), was initially conceptualized in at least some modicum of realness. <br/>
And the very real consequences of all I’ve become sometimes remind me of a somewhat poetic grouping of words I once encountered during one of my attempts at self-education. But so that quotation might expressly fit my personal situation, I needed to change a few words within it. And it is that “My satisfaction emanates from moments aesthetic, when within the ongoing conflict between true artists and lovers of conformity, my figurative seizure of brief lands, lands me brief, but true gratification. And I’m so aware that this was my turn on planet Earth! But I was forced to execute my allotted portion of temporal time through the use of viral actions and physical occurrences, rather than with both the real and imagined weapons of the so-called ‘common man.’”<br/>
But of course that quote reminds me of what I perceive as being a constant struggle between the artist (meaning one who engages in any art form, not only painting) and the so-called “commoner.” And, maybe besides, or perhaps because of that struggle, there’s always a question of how well any artist, or any artistic creation of any artist, is or are really understood by a working class public. <br/>
And, the so-called artist is often left to fend for him or herself. And that the artist struggles against both the criminal and commonplace factions of society cannot be denied. But, of course one’s conception of art and artists is always dependent upon the worldly circumstances prevalent at the time.<br/>
And who can refute the fact that the pace at which mortals live their lives within time’s passage has greatly quickened over the years? But yet, one basic question, as regards living one’s life has remained: Should one’s life be substantially lived for oneself only; that is, should one, while of course adhering to the laws of society, focus one’s existence almost exclusively upon the results one’s actions will have upon oneself or, should one attempt to ascertain the effects one’s actions might have upon a populace in general? Oh, it’s difficult to face that question! And while its accepted answer may seem so easily fathomed by some, and indeed taught in schools and amongst religions denominations, perhaps its real answer, while basically correct, isn’t as completely correct as one might initially surmise.<br/>
But I’ll leave you to ponder the above mentioned question. And as I leave, I’ll remind you of how time always continues, and how, as it does continue, changes occur around it; though its own essence does not change. And I know that some believe that the changes wrought by time are automatically good, but others have learned that they often aren’t. Yet, who can deny the truth and relevance of this cliché: The more things change, the more they stay the same? And yet, despite that tendency toward non-change, I’d like to think that I, Co Vet, struck an eternal blow against sameness.<br/>
Nevertheless, it now seems to me that my influence is beginning to wane. And that’s to be expected! Yet, much evil may still be left for me to engender! I actually don’t know! But it’s not easy to be a source of evil. And it’s devastating to have no alternative but to follow the dictates of evil’s master. And for the well-being of mankind, I’d prefer to simply fade away now. But I fear I’ll continue for some time to be a great scourge upon humanity; although, as I’ve stated before, I’m not a teenager anymore.<br/>
And to me at least, within all the words I’ve written here today, sickness and death actually have not been my most significant personal topic; that distinction would go to the simple passage of time upon Planet Earth. And, though many may not believe this, the concept of history being continually added to has always been my central focus of existence. But I know that someday I’ll be gone, and to use another cliché, not forgotten. And when I’m gone, most mortals will no doubt long to return to “pre-plague days and ways.” Yet, some no doubt will then change their ways. They’ll have “learned their lesson.”</p> Multi Mantag:www.authors.com,2023-10-28:3798404:Topic:3495252023-10-28T15:09:50.636ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: George Jennifer (Part One) and F. John Surells (Part Two)</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>It is with some sadness that I inform you that this forum’s December posting will be the last in what had been a rather continuous unleashing of prosaic and poetic endearments and tirades. My superiors have informed me that in the future only sporadic discourses will appear here. In other words, the people of my city will only be allowed to share thoughts here when it is deemed absolutely necessary…</p>
<p>Written By: George Jennifer (Part One) and F. John Surells (Part Two)</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>It is with some sadness that I inform you that this forum’s December posting will be the last in what had been a rather continuous unleashing of prosaic and poetic endearments and tirades. My superiors have informed me that in the future only sporadic discourses will appear here. In other words, the people of my city will only be allowed to share thoughts here when it is deemed absolutely necessary to do so.<br/> And I’m sure I’ve previously told you that being the mayor of a city in which strange and unexplainable events can occur can sometimes be a stressful and worrisome undertaking. Yet, during my years as this city’s chief executive, my greatest inspiration has come from what my mayoral predecessor told me on the day of my oath taking. He said “George, remember, your primary dedication as mayor of this singularly exclusive city must always be to matters outside of it. That is, your greatest mission here is the smooth transition of each just elapsed second into the annals of history.”<br/> And thus, following Ralph’s advice, I’ve decided to add this introductory disclosure (Part One) to F. John’s Part Two. And I’ve been made aware of the fact that in November Co Vet will attempt for a second time to indoctrinate our readership. And strangely, much of what he says is true, yet of course we can never allow him physical entrance to our city. And I’ve also learned that the December posting will be a joint effort of the three writers who’ve shown themselves to be (in my opinion) this city’s best: Rashon Leyf, F. John Surells, and Orlon Braem.<br/>
So, let me say a quick goodbye now to all the people who’ve been influenced by, or indeed have influenced this forum. The people of this city shall never forget you. But, as I said earlier, maybe we’ll contact you again on a sporadic basis. Thus, once again, goodbye, and I’ll remember you in my prayers; please do the same for me.</p>
<p>With love and respect,</p>
<p>Mayor George</p>
<p>PART TWO</p>
<p>Sometimes modern man becomes Multi Man in a conflux of laws and restrictions. Yet, already here and now we may have angered or alienated some by stating that the term Multi Man refers to both sexes. But do we admit there may be more than two sexes? No. In our sphere of actual time we hold only two, male and female, to be real. Still, we know there are others who say we’re incorrect in that analysis. Nonetheless, we say the same back to them!<br/> And, to assure that he (or she) properly executes every aspect of his (or her) life, no matter how large or small each aspect may be, Multi Man is advised in advance of the corresponding correct path associated with each of those aspects. But, because the reality of earthly life demands many decisions be made, and “walks of life” be followed, Multi Man finds himself (or herself) attempting to navigate several correct paths all at once. Yes, several individual functions and roles must be simultaneously fulfilled. And it is from mankind’s efforts to rightfully walk upon all intersecting roadways that separate individuals accrue the title Multi Man. And the life of the multifaceted man becomes a synthesis of all the factors derived from his attempts to follow what he determines to be correctness.<br/> But doesn’t Multi Man have some personal wants and desires? Though he’s told that he’s free, sometimes perhaps he wonders what the term “free” really means. An education in necessity and civility shows him the guidelines over which he should not step – and that’s a good thing, not a bad one. But how often does the Multi Man become entangled in those very guidelines, finding himself wrapped around by them, so that his movements and actions are often kept “at bay”?<br/>
Nevertheless, the mind of course cannot be kept at bay for long. Yes, it can be indoctrinated, but no one yet has found the ability to see within it to the thoughts it generates. And how powerful those thoughts can be! And while they are the products of the mind, they guide the heart and soul. And, unlike the shell of the body that contains them, they are free to walk naked out into the sunshine of modern days. Still, if they’re verbalized, they then become exposed to the constraints of status.<br/>
But you’re welcome for the philosophy lesson. And I’m sure many “p” people i.e. psychologists, psychoanalysts, professors etc. would take issue with at least some part of it. And again, that’s not a bad thing, that’s a good one, because every time some sort of discourse about the “make up” of the human being takes place, another chance to understand mankind better is unveiled.<br/>
Only those who are reaching backward into the various types of history i.e. factual, educational, political, religious, etc. in an attempt to alter the significance of actual past events, are the real tyrants of mankind. And they’re doing so, of course, to further their own particular agendas; but they also realize that a lot more truth is hidden in those past events than has ever been revealed.<br/>
And the singularly monumental problem faced by all who would attempt to mold society is, of course, the more that is said and written about change, the less change that actually occurs. If pushed too far, and forced to abdicate too many freedoms for the sake of being correct within the mindset of an insolent few, the majority will revolt; thankfully not often militarily, but socially and politically at least. <br/>
And isn’t it a cliché to say that Multi Man lives in a wicked world? And as he grows older amidst the wrongfulness around him, is he to be constrained by those who “felt” or “discovered” that to do things in certain fashions must certainly have been the proper ways? Oh, he’s thought of this so often! And, yet again, all he can do is leave it to each mortal to find his or her own answer to the question of what constitutes right living. <br/>
But does Multi Man feel strongly that it wouldn’t be inappropriate to say that those who continually attempt to stymie the ideas and creativity of those they’ve come to judge as “dangerous” or “irrelevant”, are often only struggling to maintain their own “protected fiefdoms” wherein all they do, say, and write is always considered worthy and good, while all the deeds and spoken and/or written words of the “outsiders” are constantly subdued? Well, the previous rather long question wasn’t meant as an exercise in self-pity; although that’s a phenomenon which some believe is a significant trait possessed by many.<br/>
And personally, sometimes I feel as though some sort of figurative door has been opened before me. But I need not enter through it to see what significance lies behind it. And there’s a large glimpse of the past there. Yet, I feel there’s a possibility there as well. There’s a chance there for mortals such as myself to finally achieve some sort of synthesis between all that’s already occurred, all that’s occurring now, and all that still may someday happen. And I feel I must possess (either intuitively or through the acquisition of knowledge) the capability to first achieve that synthesis, and then to learn from it, and then to live my life in days and years to come based upon what I’ve then realized through that mental melding of time spans,<br/>
And then it occurs to me that just now I’ve finally comprehended the process by which modern man becomes Multi Man. And, it also occurs to me how significant such an acquisition of knowledge is in each mortal’s life. And indeed, I understand now that those who never achieve this realization are those who remain students of life’s highway all their lives.</p> Polar Bitag:www.authors.com,2023-10-14:3798404:Topic:3492802023-10-14T21:43:12.191ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Anonymous</p>
<p>God! I feel free today – as<br></br> free as the sails<br></br> on the fake windmill<br></br> in the backyard</p>
<p>But I’m fearful of<br></br> those liberal finger shakers<br></br> who demand we give them<br></br> four more years – they <br></br>
say they’ve served so well<br></br>
senatorially and as a vice <br></br>
to the president while we<br></br>
were outcasts who lived<br></br>
always for our first<br></br>
and second selves only</p>
<p>Yet, today I’m remembering<br></br> a great writer who said it’s…<br></br></p>
<p>Written By: Anonymous</p>
<p>God! I feel free today – as<br/> free as the sails<br/> on the fake windmill<br/>
in the backyard</p>
<p>But I’m fearful of<br/> those liberal finger shakers<br/> who demand we give them<br/>
four more years – they <br/>
say they’ve served so well<br/>
senatorially and as a vice <br/>
to the president while we<br/>
were outcasts who lived<br/>
always for our first<br/>
and second selves only</p>
<p>Yet, today I’m remembering<br/> a great writer who said it’s<br/> a great sin to waste the<br/>
ability to creatively use words;<br/>
and as military conflicts rage<br/>
far from home, I’m also<br/>
recalling how another writer<br/>
said that although he didn’t<br/>
live constrained by the dictates<br/>
of repressive and/or<br/>
murderous regimes, their<br/>
tyranny didn’t fool him</p>
<p>So today I’m thinking of<br/> how we attempt to successfully<br/> navigate in waters where<br/>
many persons, places, and things<br/>
place shipwrecks to stymie our<br/>
daily advancements – only punch in<br/>
to the sameness of every day they<br/>
say, and then punch out to the <br/>
blandness of night – time passing by</p>
<p>But I think we possess the <br/> proverbial “Get Out Of Jail Free”<br/> card; so we’ll play it now, and now<br/>
it’s offering such a clear mental<br/>
portrait of great influencers who<br/>
once, long ago when we were already<br/>
questioning what they sought,<br/>
convinced us that they knew <br/>
what they were seeking</p>
<p>And I think they’d learned<br/> lessons from past generations’<br/> world wars, and now thought<br/>
they’d be able to stop future <br/>
military catastrophes</p>
<p>But now naysayers are saying<br/> that our daydreams of past days<br/> are rendering us dissociative,<br/>
and others greater than us are<br/>
whispering of our possible identity<br/>
disorders – and some say ours is<br/>
manic depression – to have unusual<br/>
changes in mood, energy and concentration</p>
<p>Thus, let’s nominate this as our<br/> present day mission: We’ll attempt<br/> a disassociation from all supposed <br/>
psychological trends, and, we’ll <br/>
call ourselves “Me And Only I”</p>
<p>And, we’ll seek to comprehend<br/> how each individual<br/> carries on while yet in<br/>
temporal years – yes – that should<br/>
be our objective, though we’ll<br/>
pretend a keener interest in<br/>
the bipolar – it makes a <br/>
better poem title</p>
<p>And, let’s suppose, though<br/> we know not for certain,<br/> that one would try<br/>
to emphasize one’s favored side,<br/>
while attenuation would be<br/>
sought for the other, yet,<br/>
of course, we also can’t<br/>
say that for certain</p>
<p>But we can say instead <br/> that it appears as though <br/> on certain days some of <br/>
the forms contained (restrained) <br/>
within one corpse must admit <br/>
that serious or comedic <br/>
reliefs don’t always relieve, <br/>
and then one needs<br/>
(maybe?) to look at <br/>
one’s directions differently</p>
<p>So, let’s look across<br/> all the poles we possess, and<br/> let’s find the always fleeting<br/>
“new way to live,” although,<br/>
of course, like before, we’ll<br/>
again only use a new way when <br/>
we feel like we want to, or<br/>
when we feel we need to</p>
<p>And, yet, if we really feel<br/> mandated by observable change,<br/> probably we should conduct ourselves<br/>
more sullenly then, and<br/>
less inquisitively, and,<br/>
most likely, we should then<br/>
allow those who, in our<br/>
knowledge, act ill-advisedly,<br/>
to continue on in their<br/>
newly considered satisfactory<br/>
unsatisfactory styles</p>
<p>Because surely someday they’ll<br/> realize that styles are<br/> the superficialities which try<br/>
to conceal the several<br/>
personal wars raging simultaneously<br/>
within – from which numerous battles<br/>
ensue, and then spark <br/>
multiple skirmishers always destined<br/>
to consolidate into one<br/>
engrossing inferno</p>
<p>But most people know<br/> that when Misters<br/> and Misses X and Why<br/>
say they’re bi, they<br/>
often speak of polarity,<br/>
not sexuality – not that those <br/>
who exhibit more than one pole<br/>
couldn’t or wouldn’t wish<br/>
to perform in (or on) diverse<br/>
stages of attraction</p> My Synthesis Of Vaguely Related Partstag:www.authors.com,2023-08-30:3798404:Topic:3488282023-08-30T15:37:43.060ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Marshall Lawe</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>I wonder how many people can truthfully say they’ve never said “Today I’m starting over?” Well, I’d like to think that this day is a restart for me, but then I’ve restarted many times before. And I’ve lived chaotically – but not unlawfully. Thus, I remain on the outside of all prisons today, except of course for those symbolic ones, created for me by myself and others. And isn’t it usually true that such others as deem themselves “normal”…</p>
<p>Written By: Marshall Lawe</p>
<p>PART ONE</p>
<p>I wonder how many people can truthfully say they’ve never said “Today I’m starting over?” Well, I’d like to think that this day is a restart for me, but then I’ve restarted many times before. And I’ve lived chaotically – but not unlawfully. Thus, I remain on the outside of all prisons today, except of course for those symbolic ones, created for me by myself and others. And isn’t it usually true that such others as deem themselves “normal” often seek to recast all whom they consider to be in non-conformance, so that those non-conformers might then be “normal” also?<br/> But today I’ve got what might be termed a three part story or, perhaps a three part disclosure would be a more apt title. And it comes to you established within the boundaries of talent both possessed and lacking by a (I believe at least) sadly misnamed literary wannabe. But I still have some freedoms left. The left hasn’t been able to confiscate all of them as of yet. And thus, I’ll proceed. But these are only random thoughts and realizations generated by miscellaneous events.<br/> A few years ago, while Covid was raging, I asked someone whom I respect greatly what he thought would happen should ever the facilitators who facilitate a smooth transition of every present second into the past, become tired, wearied, or ill. And he replied “A catastrophic occurrence would then occur. Mankind would then be forced to exist in two time frames simultaneously, until such TIME as the situation could be rectified.”<br/> “Lucky for us we have strong, capable, and intelligent leadership in the U.S. today” I replied. “And by God, they make sure we know about how great they are too! ‘Right - man, oh no, I mean left - man! And God save the queen!’”<br/> A few days ago, as I was walking by the airplane, I saw an assemblage gathering there. So I walked over and joined it. And as I was finding a place to stand amongst the onlookers there, I saw an elderly man stumbling his way up the plane’s entrance steps. Finally, as he reached the top of the special stairway utilized by that particular plane, he turned around, waved at the small group of us who were below him, and disappeared into the flying machine. But then suddenly a new man appeared at the top of the steps. He’d left the plane. He walked down the same steps the elderly man had just climbed, and when he reached the ground, some people who called themselves secret servicers asked him what his name was. “My name is Order” he answered. “And I’ve come to restore societal order. But remember, personal order must be your own personal goal. And it lies within your grasp only, it’s outside the reach of detractors.” <br/> And that particular incident then made me, as many incidents do, reflect back upon what possible reason or reasons my parents may have had to give me the first name of Marshall when my last name was Lawe. And yes, that question has troubled me over the years. And many have been the instances I’ve found myself wondering; searching amidst the very real happenings of daily life, hoping to find some sense of systematization in a world of apparent chaos. And whenever I’ve asked my parents why they named me as they did, they’ve always answered “We felt like naming you that at that time.”<br/> And maybe that’s why that often, in what I suppose are reflective moods, I find it necessary to admit that all sounds that bounce away from us down the hall, will hit the ending wall, and then reverberate back toward us again. And then we’ll know if we can stand amidst them. Yet, perhaps we’ll need to adjust our sunglasses, say some words which make no sense, and then disappear into either an airplane or a hedgerow, or indeed off someone’s worldwide stage. But as we leave, we’ll need to remember to say “God save the queen man.”<br/> But, despite whatever we’ll need to do, or whatever others have felt they needed to do, no one can deny that one day a new man appeared. And he appeared to be orderly. And he said “Yesterday, in the world as it was before most of us entered it, offspring often fought with elders. But elders often refused to desist from treading along dangerous pathways; and they often said ‘We’re not alone when it comes to making mistakes.’”<br/> But was, and is mankind too tolerant of past and current wrongdoing? Some say <br/> “Most likely no” others say “Definitely yes.” Oh, but those people in the hall, have they become entangled amongst various ways of life? And do they, or do they not want society to take care of all its children? And is that a dreadfully vicious circular argument? If some are required to spend too much of their own wealth for others, will others then eventually need to spend for them? That’s one of your, my, and mankind’s great dilemmas.<br/> But I’ve grown tired of hearing about people’s siblings seeking shelter in the streets. Maybe it’s time now to talk about the childishness being exhibited by many of the street brothers and sisters. I know it’s controversial to comment negatively while seeking out sun rays; one might get burned!<br/> And always remember, private defenders (meaning not lawyers, but simply those who care about themselves only) are looking out for themselves only. Nonetheless, they do understand that lawbreakers, who knew enough to break society’s laws, but yet who then couldn’t afford legal representation in their attempt to sidestep punishment, will be supplied with public defenders (meaning lawyers).<br/> And now the time has come for you to ask yourself if you sympathize with the killers who roam American schools, or with the gunmen who mass murder innocents on American streets and inside American buildings. And do you have compassion for those who drive their automobiles into large groups of people? And what about those who brutally knife to death people who thought they were their friends? Insert your own cynical and perhaps satirical comments now. But you won’t change the fate of those who were murdered. <br/> And why is it that so much of American life seems to be in decline? Some people apparently don’t know to which sex they belong. And at home, and in foreign lands the borders of nations are routinely violated. Domestically foreigners cross a river and then impose themselves on a nation’s true citizenry, while internationally lands with huge wealth and territory continue to murder citizens of their much weaker neighbors – to say nothing of the destruction of property they’re also causing there. Oh, but some of us are oblivious to the plights of mankind. We can’t see beyond our sunglasses.</p>
<p>PART TWO</p>
<p>In Part Two of this discussion I’d like to speak to a few ongoing phenomena which have troubled me for many years. As a champion of individualism, I’m greatly concerned about the “group over self” mentality which seems to be gathering acceptance. I want each person to care about, and take care of him or herself first, before he or she supposedly tries to aid others.<br/> And the loss of individuality constricts me. But somehow, ironically I suppose, it places me in quiet and lonely chambers. And as I exist in those chambers, I come to know the scarcity of reflective moments during which one might be able to visualize particular corridors of life down which one will need to tread before one’s final judgement is imposed.<br/> But on such days as this, this is my goal – to find a beginning I can satisfactorily blend with a worthwhile conclusion. In other words, I need to find a synthesis in the chambers. And I need to follow only such corridors as will guide me to unopened doors behind which secret answers may lie.<br/> But I’m not looking for more codes of restriction. I’ve been subjected to far too many of them already. And I don’t want to be bent and shaped by truth benders. Oh, and just because someone has been charged criminally for crimes many believe were perpetrated by others, doesn’t mean that person is automatically at fault for pointing out the misdeeds of others. But yet, here’s the problem: Who’s to say if the accused or the accusers are right or wrong? Who knows if elections were conducted honestly or not, and who knows if plagues were intentionally started, or began as unfortunate occurrences?</p>
<p>PART THREE</p>
<p>I’m glad you told me about what befell you that summer day long ago. Now I can tell it to others. You and its driver were the only passengers in that truck that day. Suddenly the driver pulled off a modestly busy highway because he said he’d spotted something lying in the ditch. It turned out to be an old sales catalog which, in those days, were still sent to various people via the postal system. “Why in the hell would you stop for an old catalog?” you asked.<br/> “Sometimes those things have pictures of women with not much clothes on” he told you as he re-entered the truck, and handed the “great find” to you for your perusal. But then, if somehow out of the clear blue, he launched into a somewhat philosophical discourse! “I believe that only one person ever lived without ever having committed any wrong” he said. “And only he ever really and truly cared about those whom society deems as helpless, hopeless, homeless, or destitute. And therefore, to all who have sinned I say ‘Watch first for salvation, lest you spend eternity with your nemesis Lucifer. But then also watch for the advancement of mankind. And keep all mortals free individually, because individually is how all lives must be lived.’”<br/> And when you asked him if he didn’t find it strange that pictures of scantily clad women apparently led him to emphasize the need to avoid sin, he said “Stranger things have happened. But now let’s both shut up. I need to concentrate on my driving. Say, did I ever tell you that I dreamed once that years from now people will actually be able to talk on phones while they’re driving? I wonder if that won’t be distracting?"</p> Butterfly Beautiful Part Threetag:www.authors.com,2023-08-02:3798404:Topic:3487842023-08-02T16:09:34.558ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Anonymous</p>
<p>I’ve been a follower of this forum for some time now. And I’m also a resident of my city’s so-called “artistic enclave.” And, I’ve heard that until now, no one from our group of artistically minded individuals has ever been featured in this literary spot.<br></br> But some time ago, upon my encounter with a butterfly, I submitted my impressions of that confrontation to our city’s mayor George Jennifer. He said “Finally I have something worthy of print from our group…</p>
<p>Written By: Anonymous</p>
<p>I’ve been a follower of this forum for some time now. And I’m also a resident of my city’s so-called “artistic enclave.” And, I’ve heard that until now, no one from our group of artistically minded individuals has ever been featured in this literary spot.<br/> But some time ago, upon my encounter with a butterfly, I submitted my impressions of that confrontation to our city’s mayor George Jennifer. He said “Finally I have something worthy of print from our group of local artists (artists referring to all types of creative individuals of course, not just writers). Yet, then the mayor later informed me that he felt it would be desirable to have someone named Orlon Braem compose an answer to my initial “Butterfly Beautiful Part One;” and he named Orlon’s subsequent piece “Butterfly Beautiful Part Two.” And now, here we have a Part Three, written by me, the original anonymous Butterfly author; and offered as a retort to Part Two’s answer to my Part One – if I haven’t confused you by now. And, hopefully the symbolism Orlon Braem asked me to supply in a Part Three, has been supplied here. <br/> Anyway, I am somewhat honored to be the enclave’s first writer in this posting. But, when I wrote what became the original Butterfly Beautiful, I had no knowledge or desire that it would become a three part disclosure. And now I’m hoping that Part Three will be its final part. Nevertheless, I’ve remained anonymous to everyone concerned with this writing, except for my city’s mayor George Jennifer and those unknown entities who must grant approval to all submissions posted in this forum. <br/> But, my desire to write this today has been bolstered by another recent encounter with the beautiful butterfly. I saw it as I was walking by the property owned by Orlon Braem. I was curious to know more about Mr. Braem, and thus went investigating (or perhaps snooping is a better word) near his north side home. And, as I was walking there, I saw the butterfly perch itself upon the right arm of a scarecrow someone had apparently placed on Orlon’s back lawn. “Why have you settled upon an arm of Orlon’s scarecrow?” I asked.<br/> “Orlon doesn’t know yet that this scarecrow is here. It’s still morning, and he hasn’t looked out upon his back lawn so far today. But, I’m sure when he sees this strawman he’ll come out of his house and remove it from his property. Oh, and yes, odds are he’ll also disassemble it.” <br/> “Who put it there?” I asked.<br/> “Well, do you remember that in Part Two of this discussion, Orlon challenged you to write a Part Three which would discuss the symbolism generated by mere speculations concerning my relevancy and, even perhaps my realness?”<br/> “Yes, I recall that” I answered.<br/> “Proceed then” said the butterfly. “If you believe strongly in the power of written words, then you must know what they’re capable of. Yes, I’d wager they might place a scarecrow on someone’s lawn, were that someone a someone who had recently referenced how certain people are currently using them to report matters of mental impressions.”<br/> “And the irony is that mental impressions can’t be achieved by a scarecrow. After all, he has straw for a brain” I replied. <br/> “You’re on the right track now” answered the butterfly. “Perhaps you’ll still manage to discover some worthwhile philosophies of living from this rather confused telling of what some say they saw and thought because of me.” And then the beautiful butterfly flew away. <br/> But that butterfly’s words have stimulated my desire to achieve clarity from out of miscellaneous musings about, and sightings of that insect for whom flight is a possibility. And today I’ll dedicate that clarity to someone who apparently has less and less of it on each passing day. He’s good at criticizing others. And he has a very high opinion of himself, although he’s become a topic of controversy.<br/> Nevertheless, no matter what anyone may think of me as an anonymous writer, or what mankind as a whole may feel about that world leader whose cognitive skills seem to be declining daily, I’ll continue onward with my fight against stupidity, confusion, and all forms of radicalism. That’s my lot in life I guess, although I’ve always felt I was a well-meaning man caught within the barriers of passing seasons. And, as those seasons passed, I was always left to wonder what punishment should be assessed for lives taken, as well as lives wasted. And it often appeared as though the penalty should be sunny days dead eyes would never see. Yet, then again, sometimes it seemed ample retribution could be achieved through merely forcing the “bad guys” and “bad gals” to live from moment to moment, blindly unaware of what the purposes of their lives might be. Still, after such consideration, I often felt that many lives were lived thus involuntarily. After all, the minds that guided them afforded them no other alternative. <br/> But perhaps we too often emphasize the abstract. And maybe the time has come for us to admit we can do nothing else righteously but attempt to exist satisfactorily amongst various objects, plants, animals, and, yes, other human beings. But what does the word satisfactorily really mean in relation to human life? Does it own and connote matters only temporal, or is it perceived as it no doubt should be, as referencing the eternal life we’ll all someday certainly possess, though some shall claim it in glory amongst Spiritual Masters, while others shall suffer within it, forever in the grasp of Lucifer, his apostles, and never ending damnation?<br/> And the truth of the last paragraph reminds me that while some of us are story tellers, all of us are reality experiencers. But God it’s such a fast paced world today! And I’m living within it, always it seems, with little planning. I’m existing only, I believe, to help consummate the passage of time. And sometimes I cling to a meager outline of life. Yet, other times the intelligent thoughts of others provide me agendas to emulate.<br/> But if it’s true that my ultimate dedication is to nothing more than time’s passage, at least I can say that I often notice how a harmonious present is becoming a verifiable past. And, when that realization occurs to me, then I feel rejuvenated; yet, my ever present observation is that as mortals we always struggle, often feeling barren not only in our bodies, but in our souls as well. Nevertheless, who can rightfully tell me that often, during our earthly existences, we don’t unknowingly hold the truths of life in our hands? And who’ll admit that almost always, as referenced earlier in this piece, we’ve sought the peaceful transference of each just elapsed second into the books of history? And give us credit now! We’ve tried to keep those whom we’ve been the shepherds of safe in all courts and bedrooms!<br/> And if ever we’ve found ourselves in need of past affection, we’ve reached behind our bodies and seized bygone goodness. Yet, while doing so we’ve been cautious not to touch unbelievers, questioners, or status reproducers, for they are the liars who tell innocents that only they have the keys to unlock previously unlocked doors; and that only they know of whence necessity actually emerges. <br/> Beautiful butterfly you’ve solidified the sun beams of the past and present! And your eyes scan millenniums. But as an arbiter of both lawful and unlawful discussions concerning correct living, you separate truths from falsehoods, and then render your verdicts back to Caesar, and far beyond him!<br/> Oh what piercing eyes see great wealth, poverty, peace, war, feasting, starvation, peacemakers, warmongers, success, failure, mediocrity, attempts to establish order, order, newness, old ways, chaos, kings, peasants, nobles, factory workers, management types, minorities, majorities, religions, philosophies, ways to live, blasphemers, hatred, and that word that many wish wouldn’t be spoken here. Yes, love’s a word now rendered questionable for us to mention. Oh, I know it will remain a much used word, and probably a much misunderstood word. And it’s the word that describes what all of mankind needs more of. <br/> But nowadays it seems society wishes to coddle its worst lawbreakers. And it apparently needs to sympathize with current mass murderers. And, it allows perpetrators of vicious crimes from long ago to be paroled. But then again, I guess all they really did was kill some rich people one night, and some middle class people the next night. And, didn’t they write some words on the walls with the victim’s blood?<br/> But you know, I'd better end this piece soon. I’m looking outside now. It seems calm out there. Oh, but on my mind just now are the man and woman I saw on the news last night. I guess they murdered (or had someone else murder for them) a young boy and girl some years ago. They said they did it for religious reasons. But now I’m thinking about a call I got from a friend of mine last night. He said his girlfriend had called him the night before, and told him they must break up because she has a new guy now, and he loves her more than he.</p> Butterfly Beautiful Part Twotag:www.authors.com,2023-06-21:3798404:Topic:3484812023-06-21T15:28:57.382ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: Orlon Braem</p>
<p>I’m alone here today with my memory of fears, and my realization of what appears. But I’m thankful for all I’ve received in goodness, yet I’m also traumatized by all I’ve known as evil. And to add to my confusion, recently the leader of a supposed free world told mankind that he wished God would save the queen. Well, yes, but doesn’t that phrase usually refer to British monarchs? She’s dead I thought. Oh, maybe he meant we wish her immortal soul will now be…</p>
<p>Written By: Orlon Braem</p>
<p>I’m alone here today with my memory of fears, and my realization of what appears. But I’m thankful for all I’ve received in goodness, yet I’m also traumatized by all I’ve known as evil. And to add to my confusion, recently the leader of a supposed free world told mankind that he wished God would save the queen. Well, yes, but doesn’t that phrase usually refer to British monarchs? She’s dead I thought. Oh, maybe he meant we wish her immortal soul will now be saved, after all, royalty and peasants will all be treated the same before the judges of eternity – right? <br/> And God forbid I would ever say I could truthfully know of the peril many have suffered for seemingly accidental reasons. Yet, I do know every mortal must somehow continually advance through all impending time frames. But, I feel somewhat ashamed to admit I don’t exactly know what all that’s been said in this disclosure thus far really means. I only know it’s visited my mind; thus, it must be confronted. <br/> And, for some reason, I’ve been asked to answer the reactions an unknown someone evidently garnered as a result of his or her encounter with a beautiful butterfly. But I don’t know how to do that! I don’t know him or her, and to my remembrance such a fluttering entity has never appeared to me. So, I suppose all I can do now is state my impressions of the apparent impressions captured by the writer of Butterfly Beautiful Part One. <br/> Oh, and here’s a challenge! My suppositions in this piece (Butterfly Beautiful Part Two) will be, I’m thinking, grounded in what I’d term “basic reality.” Yet, I’m also thinking that the truth, or more likely truths concerning the butterfly are possibly esoteric. And therefore, perhaps the unknown writer of Part One of this discourse would like to return in a Part Three to shed more “light” upon the puzzles and uncertainties raised by his or her sighting of a winged insect.<br/> Nonetheless, as I said as I began this piece, my current setting (with setting referring to state of mind) is one of solitary reflection. And I guess it’s one of those times to again ponder if indeed I’ve fulfilled all the failings which years ago I was prognosticated to achieve. But, now I find myself trying to guess someone else’s impressions. Yet today, in my cognizance, I find my own personal experiences to be of more importance to myself than any of those of any other mortal. And it seems that usually when I think back to all the things I’ve seen, heard, and been part of in my city, I become fearful of their past, present, and future ramifications. Still, I know I always did what I believed I needed to do at the time. And, I always tried to ward off self-pity.<br/> But I must admit that a few clichés remain with me constantly, and haunt me constantly; but never more than when I’m called upon to express opinions via the written word. And yes, clichés denigrate modern writing, yet, in my opinion, also usually provide a sort of synthesizing clarity which offers an unquestionable orderliness to modern living. And here are some relevant examples of such trite phrases: The past has passed, we can’t go back in time and change it. Many people, things, and occurrences are gone, but not forgotten. When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.<br/> But, despite the apparently inherent lack of focus which seems to underpin this writing, as I’m undertaking it now, I feel free physically, but lost mentally. And at this time the beautiful butterfly has still not visited me here, where today my mind wanders backward. And thus, as I’m sitting here now, I know not of the butterfly or of its story teller. All I know is of this city. And I’ve struggled for a new ordering of lifestyles here. Yes, I’ve struggled for that within this city for many years.<br/> But my overall mood improved recently when I received a phone call from a friend whom I always refer to as “the man from the green city.” And he told me that a number of well known people had recently left the green city to become part of a clique of New York jet setters. And after we discussed that topic for a while, we then spoke about our similar opinions concerning what’s currently happening in our Native American states And we found we’re both fearful that America’s present older generations aren’t protecting their birthrights as they should be. And we shared our concerns that someday their heirs will be left with nothing – the wealth of America having been transferred to so-called refugees. Gosh, I wonder if our ancestors fought those horrific wars just to have their descendants give away their freedoms to people who should remain living to their south? But, my discussion with the man from the green city ended then.<br/> And then I could see that beautiful butterfly! Somehow it entered an imaginary control room, and pushed a button with the word “ACTIVATE” upon it. And then, before me, seeming as real as real could seem, I saw a dance floor full of impeccably dressed ladies and gentlemen! And they were dancing across the floor, holding one another in somewhat (it appeared so to me at least) tight embraces. And it looked to me as though some of the couples were most likely lovers – but, then over an unseen loudspeaker an unknown voice stopped the beautiful waltzing I was seeing before me by saying “Mr. Braem, please deactivate this fantasy, and get down to your real assignment,” So, alright, I’ll try to do so. But I should probably say that my mind seems burdened today. It’s reliving many events beyond believability.<br/> And, oh yes, I’ve lived here now, in this city for between fifty and sixty years. And I’ll never leave here. And I knew a long time ago, as a child, that such would be the case. It’s a difficult concept to explain, yet this city is, I guess, in some respects a prison. And those who must remain here, must stay here to confront all city, county, state, national and world controversies. And no, Christ’s mother has never appeared here, but according to numerous people, both Christ and Lucifer have.<br/> And I always think back to Joseph Same’s account of the time that he and Christ, with all of earthly time stopped, were walking down what had been a busy street in this city. And with all of the traffic stopped, Joe noticed a little girl about to be run over by a car; but before he could go out into the time-stopped street to remove her from her apparently probable death, somehow he first needed to mentally relive many incidents from his past. And I’ll never forget Joe’s soul shattering verbal summation of those events: “Isn’t it strange how memories from years ago come back to haunt one when one finds oneself involved in other situations even more troubling than they?”<br/> But Joe grew up on the south side of the city, while I was born on the north side. We became friends because he spent so much of his youth “hanging about” on the north side. Indeed, he was one of a very few south siders who were welcomed on the north side. And some very wealthy people liked Joe, but that’s another story.<br/> Personally, I and some of my other north side friends used to like to harass some of the most destitute of the south siders. And as an adult today, I’m sorry for those actions, although none of them were really serious, except perhaps for the prank we used to pull against an elderly homeless man who used to sleep in a south side Catholic church whenever he was allowed to. Sometimes, if I and my friends were “cruising about” on the south side, and saw him slowly walking down a street there, we would throw empty beer cans toward him as we drove by.<br/> So, now you know we used to drink beer on the north side, but believe me, no one I knew there ever did it to excess. Nevertheless, that wasn’t the case on the south side. And I’ll not burden you with the numerous examples of how I know that to be true. Drunkenness and drug use were common there. And when I was in my early twenties, I actually had a south side girlfriend who died of an overdose. And, over the years, there were a number of serious car accidents there – on the south side. And crime was a problem there. And there were also a few murders.<br/> But of course there was crime on the north side as well, although a fair portion of it was committed by south siders looking for trouble on our side of the river. So, there was contention between the two sides of the city for many years, but that started to change when someone got the idea or directive to start settling “creative type” individuals along the near north side – very near the river. And to this day no one knows (no one that I know at least) how those people managed to acquire properties along the river, or how they managed to support themselves, or what went (and still goes) on in their area of this city. The streets are open there of course. And sometimes I drive through there. But there’s not much to see or learn there – I guess. The whole area is like an enclave onto itself. Maybe in some respects it resembles a college campus. <br/> And when I think about my city of controversy, with its actually three areas now, I’m reminded of how all the residents of it, no matter the area of it in which they reside, live lives apart from “normalcy,” although most of the time their lives are what most would consider quite normal. Yet, the chance of the most bizarre and unbelievable events occurring here is always a possibility.<br/> Yes, the realities of life in my particular city are on my mind today. And although it may be somewhat of an improbable mental leap, thoughts concerning the differences between the residents of the two sides of that city are now making me wonder why there seems to be an assumption that human beings are to live their daily existences in service to, and in care of one another. And, as I admitted earlier, I’m somewhat confused now. And now I’m praying that the unknown author of Part One of this discourse will first be allowed to, and then will write a Part three for it. I feel I’ve covered the down to Earth aspects of the Butterfly Beautiful phenomenon, and now it’s left to he or she who supposedly either mentally or actually encountered that butterfly to supply the symbolic.</p> Butterfly Beautiful Part Onetag:www.authors.com,2023-05-24:3798404:Topic:3480462023-05-24T17:29:55.041ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: George Jennifer, and Anonymous</p>
<p>Part One</p>
<p>Yes, another “obscurity” has reached my office via what’s come to be termed “snail mail.” And I’ve been instructed to see that it sees the light of day. So, I’ll ask my friends to reproduce it as it was written by someone unknown to me. And as I did with the recent piece concerning April, I’ll again ask my friend Orlon Braem to write his response to it in a second part which I’ll then entitle Butterfly Beautiful Part Two. And…</p>
<p>Written By: George Jennifer, and Anonymous</p>
<p>Part One</p>
<p>Yes, another “obscurity” has reached my office via what’s come to be termed “snail mail.” And I’ve been instructed to see that it sees the light of day. So, I’ll ask my friends to reproduce it as it was written by someone unknown to me. And as I did with the recent piece concerning April, I’ll again ask my friend Orlon Braem to write his response to it in a second part which I’ll then entitle Butterfly Beautiful Part Two. And I can imagine how happy Orlon will be to write Part Two! And, oh yes, to help confuse you, Butterfly Beautiful Part One has a Part One and a Part Two! And I’ve written Part One of Butterfly Beautiful Part One, but only God and its real author know who’s written Part Two.</p>
<p>Part Two</p>
<p>My beautiful butterfly is my Butterfly Beautiful. And he, she or it is on my mind today, along with all such mind wanderings as he, she or it may engender. And, I’m adjudging that some of the matters I’m pondering now will no longer matter in years to come, but some will, and perhaps dreadfully so. Nonetheless, can one simply start over? Maybe the damage done precludes that. Yet, isn’t it the conclusions drawn, and the assumptions made that constitute the relevance of bygone indiscretions and valor? And, of what personal and/or societal importance are points of view no longer pointed toward? <br/> But if you question what I’ve just asked, be cautious. Don’t allow your searches of memories to alter your personality. And, don’t allow them to leave you rueful. That’s my advice, but now I must document some trivialities, as well as some suppositions supposed to have importance. <br/> I’ve heard there are modifiers of both requited and unrequited love. If so, I’ll respect them with both my good and bad attributes. But remember, I’m an inspector as well as a word user. And I usually inspect only the unusual, and then try to communicate it as if it were possibly usual.<br/> And, may heaven help me, that butterfly’s presence usually leads me off into new investigations, summarizations, and then often determinations. Will you who read this ask the winged one if he, she or it’s a real or fictional monarch? And could you also inquire about his, her or its throne? Is it royal or makeshift? <br/> Butterfly, please calm the concerns I have concerning your windblown flights. Can you transport yourself across our entire known Earth? How have you answered my concerns and questions? Oh, your delicacy is buttered flies!<br/> I hate to say this, but when you’ve flown away, I often function more as a dictator than a problem solver. And then I often fail to properly contend with the matters that may then confront me. But at such times I also often dream about you. And in those dreams I see you sanctioning actions which, in your airborne opinions would most likely resolve certain troublesome situations and scenarios, if indeed those actions would be implemented. Still, likewise at those times, besides dreams of you, I also sometimes experience thoughts about the past. And if my thoughts do stray to bygone days and all that occurred during them, I often mentally initiate investigations into such persons, places and things which were of importance then.<br/> And I’ll always remember that when we first met you were searching for peace, and I was seeking order as well as peace of mind. But now I’ve learned that many mortals have already paid, and will continue to pay a price for disorganization. Yet, it seems that possession of some amount of disarray sometimes grants small amounts of freedom to certain mortals. And personally, I’ve found I need not lay out extensive and/or grandiose plans before I take each step, or write each word.<br/> But oh, I suppose you like to flutter in gentle breezes! And I’d imagine such fluttering about allows you some sense of unhindered decision making and, most likely also helps keep you looking young. And, haven’t many mortals told us that the young look is the “in” look today? But, haven’t we also been informed that any attempt to capture the so-called “young look” is an attempt of vanity, arrogance and snobbishness?<br/> Personally, I’ve believed that if we could keep life young figuratively, we’d then be able to look both forthrightly and reminiscently backward across the years. And I’ve thought if we could look backward using guidelines of youth, we’d then, through judicious assessments of past actions, be able to grant those actions what we’d consider satisfactory resting places in their years gone by. And if those actions can rest in peace there – in the past – then surely we who must always live in the present can live there, in that present, with a conscience far less troubled.<br/> Oh, and now through the window glass I can hear the beautiful butterfly speak! It says: “I’ve learned that belief in one strong eternal light can sustain one! But it must be the light of heaven, illumined by “The Triune Master.”<br/> And, oh God, I believe those words! And I know now that I can capture, hold, and if necessary release what once had been virtually unharnessable power! Thus, tread carefully you who create zones of war, and also you who tell others they live incorrectly, while you yourself are fortunate to get by from day to day, living as you do in a position of high power you’re unfit to hold.<br/> And what do you see from behind your dark glasses when you manage to leave your hiding place? Don’t you care that you’re allowing foreigners to overrun your native land? And don’t you think about the ramifications that all those “new people” will have upon American society in the years to come? Isn’t it possible that in future years a Hispanic majority will “put the screws” so to speak to all who had lived in America for many years – and yes, that includes blacks? <br/> Can’t you see what’s really wrong in America today? Are so-called “maga people” and others who may or may not believe one race to be superior actually the underlying causes of the mess you now preside over? Or does the fault really lie with the notions that everyone should be like everyone else, except of course if they feel they should have been born into the sex opposite of the one they were, or if they think they should have been a certain type of animal? And in your new society should everyone be permitted to imbibe any potentially dangerous substance?<br/> And what about all the gunslingers mass murdering innocent Americans all across your land? Should we show them pity too? Well, above all else, make sure that your supposedly democratic party wins in all upcoming elections. And woe to America if you and your left wing buddies should lose your positions of power.<br/> But today, within a real world outside of political manipulation, I saw a man quietly launch his canoe while the sun was shining, only to have the weather and the river’s flow become violent upon his entrance into that waterway. And yesterday, on the highway, in the continual backward and forward movement of cars passing by me, for a moment I thought I’d finally found why there is such a phenomenon as life upon Planet Earth.<br/> And the answer to that why is because certain Masters watch over the development and developments of mankind. And they, and those who are their subordinates, whether they be angels or past mortals, guard us who live upon the Earth still. Yet, our protectors adhere to the principle of free will. In other words, humans are allowed to make choices. They’re allowed to choose rightly or incorrectly. And one might wonder why an all-powerful deity would allow mortals to err; yet ours is not an option to question the will of God.<br/> And yet, having said what we’ve just said, another probably less thought about concept concerning free will also exists; and it’s that free will is often not used! Behind a façade of God only knows how many situations and realities of fact, the human being may remain forever untested in the controlled marketplace of thought. And he or she may have a job, and he or she may be a fine citizen of all governmental entities in which he or she may live, but yet, he or she may never be known as someone who had significant opinions, or possibly helpful insights into mankind’s struggle to live temporally upon planet Earth as best it can.</p> April, Wish Me Reallytag:www.authors.com,2023-04-19:3798404:Topic:3476142023-04-19T15:44:29.235ZSean Noonanhttp://www.authors.com/profile/SeanNoonan
<p>Written By: George Jennifer, Anonymous and Orlon Braem</p>
<p>Part One</p>
<p>Today I have no option but to fulfill an assignment given me by those who sanction my leadership of this city. And one might suppose that supervision of a city’s most basic needs and wants would be challenge enough for any mayor, yet, that’s not the case here. Here apparently the city’s leader must also search for possible truths and falsehoods associated with supplied literary imaginings! Oh, but maybe I only…</p>
<p>Written By: George Jennifer, Anonymous and Orlon Braem</p>
<p>Part One</p>
<p>Today I have no option but to fulfill an assignment given me by those who sanction my leadership of this city. And one might suppose that supervision of a city’s most basic needs and wants would be challenge enough for any mayor, yet, that’s not the case here. Here apparently the city’s leader must also search for possible truths and falsehoods associated with supplied literary imaginings! Oh, but maybe I only received this task because it’s April! <br/> Nonetheless, this discourse concerns two wishing to be mortals of apparently youthful years – two innocents evidently seeking a realness which, without the assistance of supernatural entities, cannot be granted to fictional characters. But in my imagination I can see them. And the girl is but a thought in someone’s mind, while the boy was perhaps once a real lad, photographed many years ago standing near his now classic automobile. And if he’s living an actual life yet still, then today he’s certainly a much older man. He’s much older than the man in the picture from long ago. And, because she never had a basis in reality, and therefore never really aged, we know he’s also much older than the girl who appears on a second picture with him. And don’t ask how supposed people from pictures, literature, and mental impressions expect to become real human beings. I don’t know. I’m only a mayor!<br/> But I guess just as I’ve been selected to introduce this piece, so has my friend Orlon Braem been asked to summarize its possibly useful deductions. And I remember reading once that in the opinion of one of my favorite writers, April was assumed to be the most significant of the twelve entities to which it belonged, the same as Peter arguably had been, and as the juror who finally persuaded the other eleven of supposed innocence or guilt also no doubt had been.<br/>
Still, April’s innate importance must stem from its function as a bridge between the harshness of winter, and the rebirth of spring; with spring’s rebirth of course hopefully leading to renewed expectations. Yes, but how often must we admit that many of our new formed determinations will slip away down the canals of time? And I think you know it’s true; all of our actions are judged, temporally at least, as a result of both our own and someone else’s opinions of right and wrong.<br/>
And my responsibility as mayor of this unconventional city leads me into areas of unknown and unexpected occurrences. And thus I’ve been asked to present, in three parts, both a possible love affair, and my city’s defense of its love of April. And I’m just now ending the first of the three parts. <br/>
But I’ll not tell you who the writer of Part Two is. Yet, I’ll say this: She’s not a real girl. She came to life in the mind of a teller of tales; and that person isn’t me, although as I’ve already said, I can see her in my imagination. And hers is the second portion of this discourse, written by someone unknown to me, but then submitted to me by my overseers for inclusion herein. And Part Three was written by Orlon Braem. And his was the task to form some sort of syntheses out this dichotomy of what’s unreal and what wishes it weren’t.</p>
<p>Part Two</p>
<p>I didn’t want to write this. My dad said I should put in a written form what had happened to me last week. And dad said he’d turn over my words to our city’s mayor then. <br/> I guess I probably should do something about what happened to me. Actually, if you wanted to be real literal about it, I suppose it was close to kidnapping. But, you know, I understand I was taken, or maybe I could say summoned by forces of long ago – forces that are only part of all the people and groups who attempt to add a bit of strangeness to our city.<br/> And I’d heard already when I was in grade school that this city was like no other. I’d been warned that literally anything could happen here. But of course I’d never really paid much attention to those warnings. I guess I figured if something bizarre was going to happen, it would happen regardless of whether or not I believed it could or couldn’t occur.<br/>
So that’s my story up until a week ago. My dad and the mayor don’t want me to tell you my name. But I want you to believe what I’ll write here. It really happened!<br/>
I’m seventeen now. It won’t be long until I’m eighteen. And now my senior year of high school is coming to an end. I haven’t decided upon my college yet! But I grew up on the north side of our city. And I attend the North side high school here. The South side has a high school too. <br/>
Well, anyway, I’d just gotten home from school last Wednesday when, as I was walking into the house, I noticed a strange type of car pull up at the curbside. I’d never seen a car like that before. It was bigger than most of the vehicles I see on the streets here, and it had a large white fin-like part on its side. And as I looked at the driver of it, I also noticed something strange in his appearance, His clothes seemed to come from another era, and, I guess, it looked to me as though he probably did as well.<br/>
He waved at me. He wanted me to come over by his car. I didn’t want to go there, yet, somehow, I couldn’t stop myself. I walked over to his driver’s door and asked “Who are you, and what type of car is this?”<br/>
“This car is a Chevrolet from 1957” he said. “And I’m a still young man who’s today, along with my car, been allowed to leave the lifelessness of the portrait which, together we’ve shared since 1958. <br/>
“I’m afraid of you” I said.<br/>
“Come over here and stand next to me by the car” he said. “I think it’s time for you and I to be recast as real mortals, or at least as characters of a new picture.”<br/>
“But I’m already real” I said. “I don’t need to come to life.”<br/>
“You’re mistaken” he said, “For almost eighteen years now you’ve existed as a prisoner of literature, kept alive only in the passing thoughts of someone who may someday ask his Supreme Being to give you a real mortal life. In other words, you’ve always been a lot like me; except that I’ve sought true life from the confines of a picture, while you’ve unknowingly searched for it amidst the creative whims of an author’s mind.”<br/>
So I walked over to his car then. He got out of it. We stood together near its driver’s side, and suddenly a middle aged man came along and snapped our picture. Then that man left, and I got into the Chev, and the boy and I drove off.</p>
<p>Part Three</p>
<p>Well, I guess it had been a while since I’d been asked to write for the mayor; and that was fine with me! It was an April evening, and I was getting tired. I’ll go to bed now I thought. Suddenly my phone rang, and of course it was Mayor Jennifer. And he had another of his always seemingly unbelievable requests. “Earlier today I received a very strange call” he said. “It was from a young couple who said they wanted me to grant them a real life! And I might add that they both spoke to me, yet somehow their voices didn’t seem to belong to real people! But they didn’t sound like those scamming robots either”! <br/> ‘“We’ve both been confined in unreality for many years’ they said. The girl said she was the figment of a writer’s imagination, and the boy said he was existing as an unreal human portrayed on a picture.”<br/> “Well, what do you want me to do about them?” I asked the mayor. <br/>
“I’d like you, through your use of words, to give them not only a real life, but also a real love affair; after all, it’s time for April love”! <br/>
“Yeah, and maybe it’s time our city gets a new mayor too” I replied. But then I continued “Well George, as with all your other bizarre requests, I’ll give this one the old Braem try. But first let me be sure I understand this; I’ve got a girl who was conceptualized by a writer, and a boy who appeared in a picture long ago, and now the two of them want a real life, and a chance to become lovers.”<br/>
“You’ve got it” said the mayor.<br/>
So we ended our call then. And some may wonder why we don’t text. But we do, yet I guess not in matters of such bizarreness. Anyway, I went to bed then. “I’ll worry about this foolishness tomorrow” I told myself.<br/>
And it must have been some time then, when, from inside the confines of slumber, two images, one a young male , and the other a young female, appeared to me. And I saw them inside a mirror! And I surmised they weren’t humans I knew, and perhaps not really humans at all! And they were standing near an old car – probably one from the 1950’s I thought.<br/>
And the young man spoke then. “Are you capable of good writing?” he asked.<br/>
And I answered him thus: “I always try to write away all wrongs.”<br/>
“Then bring us forth out of this mirror” he said.<br/>
And then the female said “Give us a chance to be lovers in a real world.” <br/>
And I answered them, “Well, I don’t know that the two of you are ready yet (or ever will be) to be brought forth out of literature and pictures. And, I’m a writer, not a sorcerer! Still, who knows what is capable of occurring in this city! But I’d admonish the two of you; don’t be so anxious to become real mortals. Remember, a wise lady once said that one can’t hurry love. Thus, I’m thinking it might be better if the two of you would, from inside the reality of a real person’s dream, ask the Master of the Universe if He could fashion other mortal examples of you who could fall in love in the real world. In other words, I think the two of you had better return to your fictional abodes.” And then I awakened. It was a nice April morning! <br/>
And I texted the mayor then that, with the aid of apparently the same overseers (or whoever they are) who’d brought this wished for love affair to him in the first place, I’d now been able to write Part Three of this discourse. And I notified him that since I needed to visit his part of the city that day, I simply drop off my words at his home/office. But before I left to do that, I had some moments of reflection at home.<br/>
I think I know now what one of my favorite writers meant some time ago when he wrote “I love you in fragments passing by.” He must have been speaking about how love continues although a ceaseless struggle between good and evil carries on all about it. And in his contemplation of that struggle he must have been led to ponder why so many humans strive to do what’s right, while so many others try to commit actions only harmful to themselves and mankind as a whole. But I’m thankful that most mortals find comfort in the peace of everyday necessities. Yet, of course there are some who need to justify their wars. Nonetheless my prayer today is: April hold me! Prepare me for what may befall me in May and in other months and years to come.</p>