A Grand Game of Telephone

My mother whispered her best guess,

Which I maybe could have caught,

If not for the tingle it sent down my side






**For future reference, this came from the idea that humanity is like a big game of telephone, where each consecutive assertion confuses the real message a little more. The real message perhaps being the immediate experience of the present moment (the tingle), although that is another assertion, I suppose? Babies then, relay the message more directly, before they learn to translate and reduce it to words. But in time, with all the reductions and assertions that they’re taught, as well as the iterations they come up with themselves, not to mention the impact of their specific genetics, a unique representation (or bastardization maybe, if you see this as a problem) takes shape which we might call a personality, or persona, or just person probably. A term i’m told means “that through which the sound goes.” Kinda like a telephone :) I have no conclusions here, and the more I write the more diluted the original feeling gets... let’s just say, I enjoy the smell of the dirt in Spring, but can also appreciate Vivaldi’s take on the season. Maybe there’s room for it all. And it’s just glancing back every so often to make sure Grandma can still see you. Check her face for approval, and just a tiny bit of fear, so you know what you’re doing is brave and special.