Time went too easily pass my ears, though it wasn't a second thought that touched home plate, it was the reflections of my multidimensional self that eluded my inquires. You just don't forget the horseplay and the joviality in the downplay of the circumstances.
Soapboxes become clear as each of these cast of one supplies the imagery to their looming coincidence of speaking to one another in front of a national crowd. We only hope that one of them steps up and really sounds out a visual from the vantage point of being on the mountain. A sermon, or preaching to a choir in some distant disarray, hoping to catch a public unaware or asleep at the wheel is not the hope we want to envision.
This is not the time for brevity or zingers, but one of momentary repasts, and looking toward a feeling of promise, not alluding, I guess, to making one, but of standing out among the madness and disillusion that has created the pauses in integrity, and allow the creative initiatives that are at our beckon call. Wilderness still exists on that exalted mountain we have climbed so often in the past. It is no longer a time to whittle, but to dig deep into our souls and create, as bipartisan as we can as a nation, to allow us, and the global consciousness to again come up with a battle cry to do better than we have the last for years.
As my father-in-law once said, "Come to Papa...."
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