Speak Up Child

To speak of thoughts emanating from the mind is of a most noblest intent. O contradict it is also of selfish intent. Thoughts derived from the soul cannot be but diluted with the fallacies of stigma far, and few between. Discolored, burned, and waterlogged what parchment perhaps was conceived for the purest eyes to bear witness malignants into an offensement to make the wisest of devils turn his back in judgement.

Look onward child are there not sights to be held by thy eyes, there not great musics to pattern after? The world be nothing not filled to the brim stocks and perhaps little past already with the perplexities, and observations of those far more weighted than ourselves and we haven’t past noon yet. Should not saturation lead to over burrden as too much of any good thing quickly becomes a tax of itself? Now child do not mishear me with those ears that are yet unlearned, and do not look past me with those eyelids not yet shut in abhorrence to this cruel world for I know it to be true that in time you will equal, perhaps even surpass other men the same as I. I question it not. But so does the vermin that squeaks too loud when it sees cheese is caught will you learn the scorn of an ill tempered ill timed phrase. The trick my child is of course to judge when such thoughts, the plagues they are, should be brought from the brigs of the mind, into the space between teeth and as such released upon the world. Lest you have nothing to say people will listen to a man that knows his tongue. Even more so a woman that knows how to move hers. Better you have a silent phrase than a doltish word. Keep to yourself and the world will keep an enchanted bit of fondness in it’s heart for ones such as you. As such I expect you not to have a syllable left to say, and by miracle’s ways here be a broom that makes a much more consistent noise than any man I do know. Let’s hear it’s speech why don’t we? Sweep this porch til the dust can’t be heard either, and so the only next words that you bring to life ought to be “The porch is clean papa”.

-An Experienced Record of Myself


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