Polite Certainty, Crumbling Ground

There was a land spoken of in old pages. Described as ordered,

careful, composed. Children learned early how to stand,

how to speak, how to measure distance between themselves and others. They were taught

names before faces. Categories before questions. Not with cruelty,

with politeness. Not with force, with certainty. A sense of movement

begins as if the land was slowly expanding

or tightening, the beauty remains. But something starts to align too perfectly.

In that land, words were treated with care. Every sentence carried weight.