Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers

Written By: Anonymous

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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.”
“Who put it there?” I asked.
“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?”
“Yes, I recall that” I answered.
“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.”
“And the irony is that mental impressions can’t be achieved by a scarecrow. After all, he has straw for a brain” I replied.
“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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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!
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.
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!
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.
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?
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.

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