Does a word fulfil an expression? Does an
expression fulfil a thought? How benign is
an expletive compared to the sense of actual anger,
bitterness? Do you feel that an expression is
only assuaged by its exhibition? Does, then, expression
mitigate angst? Or do we ignore the frustration of
dissatisfied resonance without the beat of the pulse
and carry on with the swords carving out words
that flow like rivers transparent, yet with only
measured depths. Poetry is no sky of confirmation
that affirms completeness. You know your aphorismic
inadequacy is a forest that is about to be felled through
its own expression of the idea? How in vain is the theatre of words
submerged like kelp, a damp squib? There can be repleteness but
not completeness, if you are so self-aware that you become
aware of the pain, that a lexicon cannot bridge the universe.
Like love is so amazing an idea, but when encountered, fails
the idea, itself. Do we feel frustrated at the onset, when we
find we have so few words to size up our feelings? How about
before Babel? Did the ideograms link the sentiment with the
manifestation? And did the carvers of stone feel the pain
of patience in taking time to celebrate its ultimate conveyance?
Or feel that all the effort taken failed its purpose?
Did we commute in stranger ways before? Like telepathy?
So, we never needed language; and language was only a fall from grace?
And we needed only ochre palmprints in caverns to communicate
our existence to posterity. And will we find the ultimate in AI,
that will talk beyond our talk? Or should we feel that silence
is the worthiest medium in the expression of our wholesomeness,
even our grief!
montes-musings.blog 