The Words

Often while engrossed in a conversation I find that what I say merely flows forth. I can never trace any specific thought that generated what I said in that moment. I know that I have thought and that more likely than not the topic has fluttered its way through my seldom quite mind, polinating the flowers of my opinions. Yet admist an oratory adventure or while enshrined a verbal spar my thoughts are silent, like the witching hour just before a heavy snowfall. The personifications of my opinions and of my partner's watch mute from the stands. I find myself unhindered and consumed. The spirit of the speech fills the recesses of this anxious mind with a calm, robust confidence. It whispers in the bravest of voices that I will not falter. That I cannot. The faith settles so deep that past concerns are fossilized: mere relics of the past. There in this mass musing extinction, I am left the sole lifeform to fufill the only niche I know: speech whether verbal or written.

After the lonesome me evolves in a mystifing manner to fit my role the best I can the silence makes itself known. Thus begins the era of repopulation where I find myself breathing life to my doubts, my beliefs, and my opposition. Within a generation the ecosystem is host to a vibrant ecology of all that encompass thought. The competition, in this place born anew, is fierce. No species of my creation holds the title of apex predator for more than a few generations. My rational thought will beat the competetors back with data and logic to take the reins. Attempting to bring the closest thing to a utopia about. While rationality rules with certainity doubt schemes it's way to the top. Masquerading as a more fair rationale it undermines the clarity recognized just a generation before.

Doubt politicks and schemes to run from the problems and any sense of stability. It feverently lies about solving problems while shifting the goalposts farther away from the solutions. Doubt the charlatan it is claims wisdom yet is a fool. As doubt ruins more of this beautiful land a silent creature hears the pleas of the denizens and takes the mantle. Empathy finds itself the leader who must care for all, and care it does. Empathy opens their arms and ears to all who need. It listens to the cacophonous clamor of complaints and hurts at each one. This loving creature can deny none but itself. As empathy accepts all pain put before it, the clamoring only grows. The leader now incapacitated falls and the aimless nature invites chaos. There in that chaos a strong leader must step forth and he is known as rationality. Like this the process repeats.

These three, this tumultous trifecta, tussle for the head of the ship as I watch quietly from the background. Yet when I must put myself to rest I temporarly proctor the match. I craft a concrete persona for each one and paint a story in which they may act out their battle. I fictionalize their arguments and consume the plot of my own mind. The fantastical worlds they are thrust into show only parallels to this place called reality. As the story devolopes sleep washes over me and for a moment nothingness draws its complete curtains. Somehwere in all this and my daily consumption of the world my thoughts, my opinions, and philosophy are born. Yet they are tucked away safely in some cocoon. Protected from that vicious battleground of constant upheavel and coups that is the forest of my mind. On rare occasion one of the three leaders will find them but this is a minority.

They only find their way to their father, their progenitor when the spirit of a oratory adventure or verbal spar washes over the land. Within the silence the break forth from within me. Flying out of my mouth and mind to dance around the air surrounding my conversation. When I view the traces of their precesnce outside of yself they feel both alien and familiar. Like a forest I walked as a child. Often while engrossed in converstaion I find that what I say simply flows forth.