Critical Thinking Solitaire

How timid the first few lay-downs.

Then, life’s metaphors come into play.

From where does the storm's purchase begin?
Does lightning need the thunder?
Does passion need boredom's consent?

Or…

Is passion inherent in breathing,
Even for those who would spend their lives suffocated
By their own unwillingness to breathe?

Might the newborn sense such complacency?
This breathing of one's conditioned breath,
Unable to define one's own place,
Shackled by other grown-up's lexiconic understanding,
Open-ended description kept isolated,

But by the hindrance to growth?

But to not know,
Feel,
Anticipate your personal flesh and suckling needs,
Growing up will be a bitch,

The downer of downers..

Might acquiescence then take over?

Who wants it to grow up anyway?
Better to be kept corralled within a society of ignorant parents,
Controlled,
Led,
Kept in stalls of mediocrity,
Risking no loss,
No gain,
No disappointment.

But…

Someday one will lament Peggy’s lyrics:
“Is that all there is?”

And if one is lucky,
There will be a light..

The searing heat of the unknown,
The eruption,
The liquid seduction of indolent rain,
The feel of moist warmth beneath your limbs
As you lay upon the earth to reflect.

Answers to the unanswerable
Might begin to seep upward,
Revealing direction still available.

Will you be willing to listen?
To see?
To awaken to unfamiliar sunrises?

Ah…

The deep breath.

The throw down of a winning card.

Enlightenment?