THE BENEVOLENTLY SELECTIVEA Poem by Willys WatsonTHE BENEVOLENTLY SELECTIVE As the keeper of the body I was born into, long ago I embraced a simplistic formula with flexible boundaries I felt comfortable within, expecting only three ground rules of consistency: The past maintained history, singular and plural, accompanied by memories. The present created future histories as well as aiding the mind’s retention. The future was responsible for deciphering moments to be treasured or not. But chronological aging does not play by rules and soon within the cranium an au contraire war was raging between the frontal and temporal lobes to decide which side had the right to determine the values of what was discarded, what was saved. While the non-participating grey matter filled the skull’s metaphorically designated stadium, the clandestine battle raged inside the cranium, ignoring sanity’s plea to be reinstated. So I appealed to a higher court to hear my case, providing an example like my not caring what I had for breakfast years ago and would rather retain events from childhood on that sculptured the life I had lived: the setbacks, love, regrets and joys. Not knowing that the verdict was pre-ordained by the stacked jury of the lobes’ egos, I innocently trusted perceptions of justice and waited in silent patience. The non-participating spectators gasped in shock by the court's announced decision: Retention of memories are seldom objective
because the natural aging process is defective, and the best older souls can hope for is to be blessed with a mind that is benevolently selective. © 2019 Willys Watson |
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