They won't eat tacos.
Looks like a salad,
why not just eat one!
they say. An Asian
dish? Forget it. They'll
ask if you've ever seen
a Chinese funeral procession
and whatnot. Only the
familiar in every facet
of their lives interests them.
No blooming branching
out, nor silly "seeking"
nor willowy wanderings
off course.
We ornery rebels are just
the opposite. In our search
for it all, we swing with unclouded
concentration from limb to limb,
lost, at times, in a dense
rainforestial foliage of
foolhardiness.
Stubborn hardheads on a
joyride, we're sometimes the
pot calling the kettle...
Which type is worse? Is
there a doubt? Into which
category do we fit Christ
or the Mahatma?
Rebels both we'd better.