Raising My Voice For Once

I live a modest life, I shun displays of opinion or pride, give the last word to others to cinch our accord, or mark our discord. How can we ever find a plateau of agreement, much less of smiling silence, if we continuously toss raw speech at each other? Why has such bluntness trumped our use of nuance? Tell me, if you know: Do our good thoughts ascend and mingle in a perfect place? While our bad thoughts infect the air we breathe, making it heavy with regrets, recriminations, poisoned attitudes bumping into toxic facts. Such is the world our actions and omissions shaped. But the world is not some hidden place, occupied by demons and dark angels. Are people trying not to love the world? No, that will not prevail! The world, in some mysterious way, is The Garden, Eden perhaps, or Humbaba's forest, or a utopian farm - Oh, insert whatever name gives you hope, and makes you responsible for fulfilling it. Imagine in an idle moment what trees will shelter the people working in the summer's heat to make their place a site of everlasting homecoming. Then bow in greeting and call them brothers and sisters. Later, as you and your fellow workers rest under their shade, answer me, Is the world a wicked place, or is it already the blessed residence of blessed people? Then we will have reached our plateau of agreement.