In humor mysteries that evaded my predilection to the dull were forgotten without damage to ego or person. Slogged through showers of my own self-edification I remain capable of trudging the roads of folly no matter the ridicule or contempt for I am content in my lack of reason. Saturated by illusion my stripes and spots became trophies of the fury that coupled my ignorance. Tapping and whistling as those around me shook their heads and tossed eyes wondering the potency of these shallow waters grown deep.

There is no sadness for simpleton, finding bliss as inexhaustible revenue of the unwise. Value impudence and idiocy empowered my quest for mastery of the quaint, manufactured and plastic. Too quiescent for relations they avoided me as seed to rocky path. Growth, pursuit of greater men my path led directly to the lower point upon the battlefield. Coalescing around the lesser victories found in giving way to raw brutality and emotional hubris. Too educated in nihilism to be vulnerable to divine presence before me I relegated all to the temporary. Toys my contentment for they asked little focus of me requiring scant attention span to which I had been well endowed.

How am I to ponder that which I have no capacity for hearings ingest? Save speeches for the unholy as my indifference an impossible shield protecting my conscience from taking position in Adam’s plight or Eve’s misunderstandings. Seeking status matters not to a man who ties string around each finger hoping of prospered memory. No weather warm or too cool, never exhausted by missed expectation having no moral compunction to reach for stellar starwood. Delighting in my ignorance I may laugh at complex and turgid as nothing scalps the latent lumber of my impenetrable allegiance to the daft.

Counsels gathered meant nothing but lasting demands upon my impatience. Caring not for things that must first receive value in their definition and delight in their victory. There is no fear where evil fails recognition. Everything is right that is not found wrong in its destruction. We simply seek continuance, not everlasting but fascination with the temporary and impermanent. What joy may village vagrant find in something beyond his comprehension or attainment? A garden grows not when it snows and plants find no root in mired reason. The season of ill regard where nothing found pious, worthy or pleasant is exchanged for simple sensory stimulation. Beauty must be consumed as its worth is in its digestion by those who have not tolerance of the innocent. All is as it should be for to expect more is unpleasant folly.