I hear eloquent excuses whispered in dimly lit corners. Shadows flicker and colors fade to velvet and glass creating mirror images of ancient travelers.
I ignore vernacular reasons sang with a distracting rhythm. Concrete and steel reverberate staccato sounds so fast there’s no time to object, just shake your head and move out into the open air where fresh perspectives leave your head shaking.
I listen to factors that make a man stand tall holding his faults accountable. Clear skies and consciences drift transparent in fields of green. Remorse and regret peel back the truth of what tomorrow will bring. Like the morning dew doesn’t change the flowers I see, patience reveals the withering glory.
If we are what we eat, the we become what we hear. Listening carefully is akin to the tongues wisdom. For a word lasts longer than a meal, and the nourishment absorbed depends on the quality of the listener, as well as the chef.