Choicest Choices Voice Choice Choicness

Socrates           "You know, I know nothing?" 

Plato                 "Is that right?  It is not wrong, nor is it left."

Socrates           "What is left?"

Socrates           "Incorrect!" 

Plato                "Who may correct it?" 

Socrates           "Arthur may try." 

Plato                "When pigs fly!" 

Socrates          "Nonsense. Go home Plato, you are drunk"

Plato                "Am I ?"

Socrates           "Do you think?"

She's Lump!

One explanation.

To explain, since first I spoke,
was all I ever sought.

I hadn't learned one single thing.
Yet, there was much I had been taught.

I'd whisper, if you'd listen.
But, it's time you haven't got.

Who ever does?

I journeyed far across the land,
seeking council from my friend of old.
Blanketed, I was in fact,
by a fateful snow of cold.

I told this friend, the other day,
that his moral code was of the gray.
In my humble estimation.

About which,
he had this to say,
"You sir, are not mistaken."

I then did invite inside, a stranger to my home.
Reluctantly, he did agree to be my guest.
We played some type of fanciful game.
Although, not entirely in jest.

Quite completely just the same,
I was as I had always been before.
Yet, I smelled the winds had changed,
as I turned toward the door.

I knew that home had arrived upon the range.
As it was, yet again, the season of the strange.

I looked his way and nodded,
and the stranger understood.
Transparent awareness,
just one gift from the Knights of Good.

Nothing spoken. Nothing owed.
Nothing borrowed. Nothing sold.
Nothing demanded. Nothing forced.
Nothing hateful. Nothing coarse.

Nothing vulgar. Nothing bad.
Nothing violent. Nothing mad.
Not a hatter, nor a March of Hare,
could ever discern this single truth.
The exception is the one who dares...
Not one more rule of the -less of Ruth.

The child's name, we sent,
deep beneath the sand.
The apparition, a ghastly silhouette,
had arrived to take the stand.
Always the scout, she was prepared.
The vindicator of this land.

Order. Order.

All rise.

Something, something, something,
dead.

Something, something, something,
Said.

Something, something, something,
alive.

Something, something, something,
contrived.

Approbation, of audience, by their ruler,
her Majesty The Queen, the hearts so boldly did beseech.

Not any one has a measure here with which to teach?

As for that of which it was whatever they had been after;
What did the fox say?  "Wow. Such sanguine laughter!"

"Your majesty.
We, your honorable hearts,
deeply apologize for our bloody discoloration.
Don't you see, we were the victims of one common offenders excitation?
T'was Mobile Vulgaris Alice which made your majesty's senses asunder rended.
May we suggest, Your Majesty, that her head be expended?"

Guilty!
Guilty!

They all cheered and chanted.
They huddled together so that every eye might see.
Hesitantly the hearts approached without dearth of curiosity.

Uncorrected, they all did begin to stand.
"It is with great muchness that we did decide.
We pass this verdict to the King of And.
Be silent as you read aloud this fate of the tried!"

"So, by royal proclamation,
this order had been declared.
As a call rang in the celebration,
the year of new will not be spared."

The Red Queen's blood,
now boiling from the news, she said,
"Kill the Mr. Rabbit of White!...
In fact, off with his head!"

Time now frozen in a solid state,
the walls blackened blue as the knight.
This might finally be our fate,
if we refuse the walrus a bite.

The Festiveness monster, Fessie, tweeted,
"The carpenter's contract has still yet to be satisfied."
Upon this time the child did dare approach,
fervently filled with prudent pride.

Softly she shouted as she spoke,
"I am all in favor of my own,
and of your, existence.
But, I am not the savior of this Land Under Resistance!"

"Curiously curious,
curiosity does and did decide.
Into my office if you please",
she said, "just watch your step, inside."

As the half full glass began to become half empty,
I thought I saw one of those rare twins of plenty.
Tweedle. Tweedle. Dum. Dee.
Tweedle. Tweedle. Dum. Dee.

"Don't lets be silly.",
someone was heard, or so they say.

As the caucus race begins,
The old did eclipse the day.

As new tears hurried up her cheeks,
her eyes were no longer dry.

Dagger darts did then aim directly at my eyes.
This is that which next she claimed to be some sort of compromise.

"Hey mister, never cry.
That is, unless you're sure it's dead.
On with your head is a lie.
No cake will there be.", She said.

Purpose.

So I wrote, Cheshire, this eulogy:

Leave me alone with my work.
Else, assist me on a journey of the most exquisite perk.

Give me space so that I may reach the distant stars.
Else, let me collaborate there with you on Mars.

Be silent.
Else, say something which is clever or is useful.
Be nonviolent.
Be humble, kind, and honest.
Else, don't ask for anything from we.
Be I what I am, or be I that which you purport to see me be?

Curiously curious, I am still the only me.

Never not welcome. Never alone.
Never abandoned. Never not home.

Never not alive. Never not rotten.
Never neglected. Never forgotten.

Without motivation,
while bored to death.

With no excitation,
while drawing breath.

I once again, tried in vain,
to attempt to begin to explain.

Since first I spoke, this is all I ever sought.
I haven't learned one single thing.
Yet, there is much I have been taught.
I'd whisper in your ear, if only you'd listen.
Still, it's the time you haven't got.
Something must be missing.
Or maybe not.

Let's begin again.
Ctrl+F Yourself.

Destination

As long as there is I, there is a reason and a purpose.

He, who always hides, discovers never who he is.

Whatever ought to be, 
or ought not to be. 

Is that the question?  

The answer: 

Whatever is ought, be that or be not.