Each mountain parades itself triumphantly into sand
but notice only has conjecture of it
entered into shared observations.
Leaves in a rainforest never learn to pronounce their names
for the collective is a choir that never stops singing.
Bread crumbs, gathered by the flock, do not yield a loaf.
Fancies that lurk in their private amusement,
do not readily speak the truth as they imagined it.
Whims, all taking flight together, do not constitute a herd.
Vagaries, gathered in bright sunlight, do not set the mood.
Even a convention of quirks could not produce
a reliable witness’s account in a courtroom of law.
A billion of anything really has no shoreline
when passing by them, one by one, is the human mind-fill.
And you wonder why obscurity is a blessing in disguise?
There are no straight lines in the Universe
yet we, as humans, features straight line construction
and right angle strength as the gods
of our structures and construction.
No wonder urban looks like a rash on the skin of the earth.
But true wisdom will never make it to billboards
and if it did, that would be an oppression of the truth
by public humiliation as a disgrace to understanding’s goal.
Wisdom is by seepage through the obtuseness of living.
Obscurity, as the guardian, sees the value in obliqueness.
For the essence reward to the harvest
is not in the goods obtained or the manipulation of props
but by the actions of the dance process blessedly performed.