Why do you submit? What must you think of authority—that they indeed author? And if they do? You presume them poets—and good? Kierkegaard? Elliot? Or perhaps masters of civility. Plato, Aristotle, or an Adams as compromise perhaps. You presume they own a pen and have ever authored a truth of the soul; you must! You hang your own neck in their noose. The Greeks fathered a wicked lesson to engender their meaning. And you do indeed stand beneath them; and they know it just as well—better than—you, and admit it in private. A bread, a circus, a taste of the tit even—enough to make fools and addicts sing their anthems—or revoke them, whatever.
I author you a pen of your own, here, now. If you dare; if you can re-member your fathers, if you can glow the coals of their pyres for a moment in the tips of your own fingers; if you can take a well of ink home for your desk and think it warm with a glare of hope and anger and love and wrath and with the wraith bravery of the already dead—and that you are if you’ll only know it.
Here is your pen. Make yourself a servant and a servant of yourself. Alé! Negate these courtiers hidden contempts and resist the hiding urge for curtains of softness, equality. Do you strive for sameness? Write it off, man! And with this pen! Do not escape either; forge through and in and curve the world to your word if you’ve got wildness in your hands. Inscribe the story of time and love and passion and move the trees with ferocious wind as the Barrón could paint his tress over. Inscribe or be inscribed upon, marked by man. The terrible truth that the middle, the median man only exists in the mentí, indeed the mentiré of chattel, and must, for horizons are made for the erect and brazen, never glimpsed by the bowed and yoked necks of the many.
Here is your chance. The truth has been said plainly to your ears; just better than them even, for a tempting glimpse at a rung, and then another. Come on, good man. Be good for yourself. The herd you fear and hide amongst secretly contemptuous of their camouflage that hides your knife; they will surely follow and you will be their god.