Seasoned Reality

An image is worth a thousand words, but
Remains an image. A basis in thought
Stands upon an image in order to
Pursue, to the end, the desired end
Of thought in the one who views it. And what
Sort of image can break the mind when caught
In a blow of words, emotional brew
Spouting forth steam, with no thought to give mend
To the situation; what image makes
A man change a heart when full knowledge of
The image gives him leave to trample such
Petty emotions to the ground? Reason,
Reality, that quintessence of man,
Allows him to rise above the fray of
Anger, emotional response, like a
Ship at sea may withstand the mighty wave
As a child endures the splash of puddles
On his rubber shoe. An image of man takes
On the emotions of men like cargo,
Bolster's it's revenue, feeds like a leech
Upon the unintelligent, and fakes
Any decency, like a white made glove
That conceals an unblemished hand of touch
So foul that only a mask would make one
Reach out to grasp such an illusion ham.
But the solid ground, thick set thread woven
Into a montage of colors that say
I am what I am in context, brave
Words that appeal to all mans common goals, 
That flow of the collegial thought by which
Man builds up his house, by such images
That find themselves upon the rock first set
As the foundation of thought may man see
A truth inside painted reality.
For a thousand words are but a thousand
If they are not based upon the one. So
Start from the beginning, work forward, and
With thought make sure images; understand
That this is no assurance they will see
The depths of the glorious mystery,
But if you do all that you can to make
Them open their eyes they must die; or take
What you have to say as the truth made real;
The truth made flesh, an image that is real.

                     Seasoned Reality, (c) Luke Bennette, July 2012