THE OTHER STRANGE

Truth-tellingly, for the umpteenth time, the invisible within me warns me of the other within. A stubborn, clawed right to what is, and perhaps to the more I have earned in the gallant iron-mace of Time. It would pull us in two directions, yet one common interest can hold us together; to serve with humility, with due diligence, literary levels. And if in the judging of unjust applications even the most justly learned words should prick my unquestioning sense of justice as a thorny gibbet: who will stand up and stand up for what is right for me?!

And if I am the last to roll somewhere far away at the end of a labyrinth of rows - I know - I shall always be comforted by that other's embrace! For long ago, for a long time, we've been getting cold and warm together: our selfless, helping kindness is more a statistic, a gift to be demanded, than a nagging musing, but it must negate any further continuation, because I myself cannot know how to go on!

Eternal human destinies are stretched within me, and in the world at large I would still prefer to remain the whimsical eccentric, who moves forward in the cross-section of eternally considered destinies with a forward-looking, yet humble head. I carry within me the sometimes bitter defiance of my days: stubborn, stubborn confessions of faith, humanity, moral law, in me to make way for new ideas, new possibilities; something in me, I feel, with purpose and aim, is always holding me prisoner, warning me, and not letting me go at the moment of opportunity - when it is necessary to be sensible - and when I must, with convulsive spasms, cling to the vow of humiliating stoic silence with determination and perseverance!