we speak in tongues, each mood a language in its own right
we feel blue, sometimes, and red, perhaps? at others
sometimes our talk has the ulterior motive of a one-up on the other
yet at other times we speak the truth, of course, only as we know it
because anything others say becomes falsehood even before its utterance
so we are our own - and intelligent - bundle of prior judgement when we can only understand something through the lenses of our combined and current understanding
it's not entirely untrue that we atrophy along the lines of our opinionation, (if that's even a word!) , those of us who've skirted such 'choices' to be made in life are blessed with
a modicum of sanity not accruing to the rest of us
I prefer deferred understanding because it's worked for me
plus, I've heard that I'm dense, in certain quarters, whilst in others I'm looked upon with some regard
Personally, I don't mind being dumber than anybody else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem