And I do not fear to say that those who are held
Wise amongst men and who search the reasons of things
Are those who bring the most sorrow on themselves.
Euripedes from Medea 480-406 BC
So strange how empty some vessels. The disillusion after the rising climax, the denouement, and finally understanding your life has been devoid of liberty; and as light makes it exit stage left, your fear is such each moment is eternal, the clonging of an everlasting bell. How I see the straggling and struggling cars, puffing smoke into the city, checking the clock, and faces behind the wheel, and I wonder, "Are they afraid of what the next mile might offer?" A sudden burst of dust, the banging sound of crunching car, and a blood streaked road, quickly the falling action and no time for the dead to ask those critical questions; you simply deliver the bodies to the morgue and push the stroller to the edge of the road.
Those who search for the reason of things are considered iconoclastic, an agent of change, and troublesome and unhappy; this I know from my twenty-five years of travel.
Now you know the cause of my search, and who I really am, the source of my sorrow. I take a box of Wasabi from the cabinet and the cheese from the cooler. I fill a crock half full of red wine, and I look down into the crystal and find a fly floating in the fragrance of my grape. Angry, I unwrap the cheese and find paper towel clinging to the corners...but, I catch my reflection and I see I am bringing the sorrow on myself, and my smiling face reminds me of a leading question, and so I followed it for years. "Why do they want to throw you away?" I laugh at the idiocy of our modern world: Mary Kay makeup, p/b and jelly without the crust, Jack in the Box, and the petty moanings of the neighborhood gossips.
The wisdom some 2500 years old, and yet it is like new news. Justice will never be served, so there I go again: worry will follow, and eyes will search, suspicions will arise, and I will continue to smile.