Remember those Halcyon Days when people who would lead us would tell us they will tell us the truth – and then so do? Remember when “Trust Me!” was followed by reasons why?
Remember that Halcyon is another way to say bird that fishes. Kingfisher, in fact. No. More than that – a mythic Kingfisher with calming – wind and waves and presumably the hearts and beating breasts of all mankind. That bit about peace is a zinger. Peace may be defined as that mythic time we may discern by the absence of conflict – wars. And when has that ever happened?
The people who preach peace often are terrible spellers. They say and write Peace but really by their actions – both visible and underhanded – show they mean Piece. A piece of this and a piece of that and pretty soon all those pieces will mean everything.
Classicism says to me we gotta get ourselves some leaders. But The Classics tell me we’ve got to watch like hawks those who would perch on the topmost branches and point us The Way for the worms – and fishes – they would save for themselves. At least crows share. At best, some of our better politicians must have watched The Birds and seen that sharing is a many-way’d street: not just up and down and down and up but sideways and diagonally as well. But sharing never must be mandated. That’s the way of ruin. And, with that, I will leave now to go back to transcribing haiku and tanka and other bits and pieces of my life. Just hadda expectorate a bit, donchaknow?