My curiosity broke free, swimming closer to the truth. Harder it is to swim back the further you go. At our feet, the hounds have broken loose, howling. Shooting the first salvo into the bow of some wretched wrecked lost ship at sea. How can we close our eyes? Those pieces washing on the shore, counted then thrown back in? Those obdurate voices copiously eating the bandwidth, easily steal the wind, stranding truth as the sea begins to swell. Blind in turmoil, gluttony in wealth, and the flow of superfluous information, our apprehension managed and marginalized in small edible bites (bytes). Those totem polls of moral conscience, those search engines that sift and file this electronic sea, give little credence to the bigger picture. At our feet, the hounds have broken loose, howling. It’s an ultimatum disguised as compromise, as the bodies beach themselves, in full view.Birth sign: Libra
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