every mood has elements of passive-aggressiveness to it.
it is the squirming birth of a feel,
the writhing and the bluntness,
initially microscopic until first evidence.
somewhere in the coarse-work of its impetus,
emotional impulse strikes a chord.
and that chord rises from within,
gaining register and definition
until in the range of felt, it registers.
its essential makeup has elements of distant past
and the currency of a now-awareness.
it surrounds itself with an internal of like kind.
the private media of self takes up the cause.
the pro-con environment is still very confidential,
but the buildup is on.
the swarm of mood is approaching.
the prejudice of perspective has orders.
feel takes on a bloom of mood.
mindfulness is still following along,
gathering an escort of justification to use.
there is the beginnings of a stockpile of language potential.
some straightforward, some with varied disguises
but neither have their talking papers.
yet presence has their uniforms on
and are standing at inward attention,
ready to serve.
the environment of person to person innocently waits.
well, maybe pretends to wait.
clues have been sent out into the mutual flow.
subtleties have been banning together without witness.
even in faintness, there is still a demand.
no, it's not a page turn
or a topic tare down,
but currents without surface have been moved along.
mood will show.
the relational environment will reflect.
the story to be read
will be from an altogether different book
then when we were just here as such.
for it won't necessarily be the topic itself
but more importantly the grip on the words,
the tone of deliverance,
and the fallout that registers as mood.
as the feeling environment has been taken up
when nuance puts the top down
and drives around in the neighborhood of attitude.
now the journey has a driver and a passenger.
and eventually that question emerges.
where are we going (with this)?
(followed by,
are we almost there?) . . .
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