Post Modern

It is amazing how little we understand.
Signs, symbols, words, gestures, bodies,
information interpreted in a different way
by a different person who formulates an opinion
without ever asking why? What? How? Where? When?
We do not understand, but we will not ask questions.
Instead, we form opinions.
Asking questions we do not already have the answers to
leaves us feeling despondent,
instead of feeling the very real joy of having learned something new.
This is a mortal flaw that must be amended somehow.
We have limitless resources to discover what we do not know and understand,
but are worried we will be scrutinized to a degree
that will not hurt us at all once we have recovered from the pain
 and have fucking learned from our arbitrary mistake,
with proper guidance, served or found,
as we live our lives one day at a time,
until we can develop enough vision or forethought
and finally have some semblance
of how things work and how things can be improved upon.
To be the fool who is willing to learn!
To be the fool who is filled with fear of the new!
To be the fool who is filled with fear of the old!
To be the fool who is filled with fear of everything they do not understand!
It's amazing, really.
Every great name you can think of
in any subject matter imaginable
has a very obvious blight of misinformation
on their realistic or imagined or re-imagined record.
Winter leads to spring.
Spring to summer.
Summer to autumn.
Autumn is my favorite.
It is winter again.
It is very Winter in January of 2014.
Things seem grave.
To have a continual party
always eventually seems grave.

Aaron C. Molden