Escalated Are These Events

The events today upon us done, Are not isolated to escape from. It only seems that way... When whispering in intentive ears, With words we say are not heard by those... Believed from us to be far away. And they can not our words hear, To ascertain what it is that is said. Escalated are these events. No matter who attempts to convince themselves, What is done with a doing to another... Is a doing done not to them. How foolish self-deception becomes, When beliefs taught are twisted... Until a grief upon one comes to visit. And that pendulum begins to swing, From one end to the other. Without preferences or druthers. 'Are you familiar with the works, Of Pablo Picasso? ' No. Why? 'Your writings remind me of his paintings. I never understood them. They have such an ambiguous complexity. And yet... I am sure you intend them to have some depth.' Vague and disjointed. As if to have meaning and purpose? Although captivating. 'Exactly.' No. I'm not familiar with his work at all.