It does not account to wisdom. Depending on the purpose, it can be extremely pompous. But hey, this is still one beautiful world to live in. We have a fair, just and faithful God. A power greater than anyone of us. Having said that, I think it won't hurt if we believe in something. That no matter how corrupt some souls have become, this new endeavor is not empty and futile. Let it be that this whole new experience makes them better persons, more virtuous, useful, responsible individuals, bureaucrats.
To me it's all simple. That piece of paper parang make-up lang yan ... lipstick, eye liner, mascara, lash curler, foundation, concealer, blush on. An invention always meant to augment, to improve. Never to destroy, or magnify or worsen.
Wisdom is a product of common sense and conscience. Simple? Yes. Easy? No. We all know that, this kind of sense is not very common after all :) ... and Jiminy Cricket can kill you instantly without mercy striking like a sharp bolt of lightning.
So my friend, as agreed, education does not account to wisdom. It only makes us "not socially deviant". Compliant. Right now, I'd call that a fad ... like your laptops, Samsung Tablet ;), Ipod, Androids? :) ... and yes even, drinking buds, sooo fleeting :(. See now ...
postcript***
found 'em, grabbed 'em. altared 'em. thank you :). antics :) fables : cartoonized :) drunkeness :) ... you made my eyes green, my friend ... i should have been the one putting that life vest on him :) darnnnn ... and pull him out of the water after that fall from his kayak :)
I like to remember things my own way. how i remembered them, not necessarily the way they happened. I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. My DeLicioUs ambiguity.
... my other garden ;)
About Me
- Irma
- I'm not a graceful person. I'm not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2AM, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don't see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
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