I once strode forth like the thunderous gallop of the tides with an answer before a question. Only one fluid ounce of yearning; half for wielding the best questions in my right hand and the other half to yield the best answers in my left. A swift silver tongue to fool them all into thinking me a fool and nothing more. The snicker of a man.
But waning in time left me only to lurk in the doorway between the deafening past and the deafened future. The raging waves of my finesse became blind raging waves and I had been nothing beyond a mere jester.
I climbed off the stolen mare in the marketplace, and watched the merchants, orphans, lambs, gamblers, liars, thieves and travelers. I shut my eyes and covered my ears at the thought of being one of them. To the right of the square was nothing, making it an ideal place to be. I shuffled a coin between the slits that were my fingers to ponder. A festive murder of crows squawked in the distance accompanied by the howl of a wolf in the other direction, paying homage to the rituals of moonlit nights. Except that night, the wind didn’t speak it’s lonesome tongue. Murmurs accompanied. Gibbering echoes like they were from the bottom of some magnificent cave. ”mine yesterday, not mine before, not mine today, mine after,” I heard at dusk.
At once, I rose forth like an engulfing field of daisies with pollen for the bees. I wielded and yielded both questions and answers in one hand and held the hand of the blind future with the other. Though, one hand on the water vase for the blossoms. The grin of a woman.
Men kill beasts. Woman kill beasts without bloodshed. I whistle with the murder, howl with the mangy mutt, waltz with the wind, snickered as a man and grinned as a woman. I see no beasts to kill for I can now see.