My mission, mere fools errand, the resulting end, was not much different, than perhaps it was, when it began. three a.m. For archetypes and nocturnophytes, 3 a.m. begins the dark and creeping quiet, except for the few occasional, who pose as midsummer night owls. The reverse of which, more noticeably pitched, stark antithesis, that which struck at 4 o'clock on sunny, hot, balmy afternoons. More often not, the heat will stop the hoards of blue buffoons, but summer dwindles, winding into winter's long and chilly spindles, those left out of doors, the poor embittered poor, will ruminate on what they confiscate, while our government elected officiants do nothing but offend the sense with ignorance inchoate. Weather brings the motley fool, to lands upon which no men may stand honorously. Fool, which I may be, ensures the eveness of my foothold against my very gravity. if such is will, and will alone; then trust, so that I might break it. My deeds become the heaviness of heaving breast, the words bespeak of cruel and latent suffering and let tomorrow not be spent within the confines of my dark and rotting mind, but better yet, free from fetterings and that which steals my sleep. Set me free so that I might take to the night, in flight against the darkened skies. Fifteen till four, the night relinquishes it's grip upon the world, the noise begins to slice the dark, like butter knives through paper. It is known to be generally avoided, to be seen riding the servants horse, while there are those observing as naturally, as we would expect, the topic falls to natural discourse, but then to my chagrin discussion fails to take intended course. I apologize for I digress on the subject of maladjusted wickedness; continually it seems to me, there are more of them than you or me, so should we begin habituating ourselves within the very act, or, less obvious than that, consign ourselves as architects, charged with the task of designing rooms that will confine us? And then I feign that I am hearing rumors of you cutting corners with your words, and obviously there are rumors that you are cutting corners in your work, leaving me the testatrix to contributions that are worthless or even cumbersome to define in all of my failed attempts at securing who I am. The clerk behind the counter says to me, ma'am I'm afraid that to this effect, your actions fail to set the necessary precedent. However, we have decided to, graciously extend you, this much debated personal invitation; so that you might tongue in cheek, all those soggy aspirations. Come to find, the time of night, after chewing through this veil of sublimation, I awoke to find myself, arriving at the station. The last bus, the last stop, my furthest reach, fell to the Earth just miles short - truncated vindication, I disembark unto an empty street a man approaches barren feet, pulling shopping carts stacked end to end with all his worldly possessions, the unintended consequences of all of his hurriedly rash decisions. I refuse to let this be, the act that will define me, as I refuse to allow those very thoughts confine me, if I go as wren in spring, with sorrow and sighing on silent wing, I will go intact, with all the pain and suffering. If this is to be, the very thing, unto itself, or on its own, we ought to pay attention to the gardens that we grow, to think about the what and when we sow, to think we will feed its mouth just above our resting height of six feet below. Returning to the archetype, turned architect at some point, quite late into the night, we revisit him attempting to struggle through his ultimate designs, if only then I knew what now I do, if I could offer just one small slice of regret in my life, it would be this, to be sure, dear architect, let your attempts be best, for what you manifest. while others shift the focus on if their structure be secure, you would do well to remove your windows and unhinge all your doors. I always said that if I must be handed trust, then I will never trust myself, please if this, in God we Trust, trust none too much, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, for if you trust, be prepared for them who often break it, and for who will, by firmament, seize the ground beneath your feet and shake it. If I am to be commanded by the heavy-handed to the task of designing my own prison, then be sure that my creation will be based upon the fatal flaw of the ease which I escape it.
RITA LEILAH DUNN
