The Happy Wanderer

Sometimes we wait too long, To speak our minds. We let lingering truths linger, We let sporadic clocks, chime.. We allow patient seams to fritter away Like a sparrow does with the timber of the tune That she was shrouded by; shrill words tearing  Ears, each word she utters, careful, today. While the first day it was a free reign, until Some unctuous winds carried to her, criticism. Just the same way as copper utensils in a house Of steel, are anyone's delight, until bronzed,  With wear and use, both are the victims Of sundry needs and glances. Just the same way, some things, Are stowed away in careful pockets Because they have borne a lot of perusing When kept in the open.  Like love. Like hurt. Like envy. Like silence. Trust and truth are two things I can list, That are given, that are l'habitude. I tell the truth because it is, it exists, It is what I perceive, it is what I've lived.. And I keep your trust, because I've learnt That it'll help you keep mine, it wil...

Just the other day, I was thinking, whether, you know, there is such a thing as a 'right'. Now, I'm not referring to the direction, which I know you would certainly have put out of the question, or the Constitutional Principle- that which allows me, forthwith, to express freely here -or the moral doctrine that goes a long way in dictating most of our actions. Nah. What I want to tell you about is much simpler, because it's colloquial. And if we can get someplace else with the meaning of the word, starting from here, I can bet you that it'll be a worthwhile journey. What I've been hinting at (which is easier to guess if you say the word 'right' five times than with a thesaurus at hand), is that it's sometimes alright, oxymoronic as this may sound, for there not to be a right. For there not to be an 'accurate'. For there not to be... accuracy, correctitude, pointedness, unblemished-ness. (Pardon me the coinage of the last one.) There is a funda...