the infinite secrets which you wisely avoid

Leagues behind you lay the infinite secrets which you wisely avoid.  The window of opportunity is bigger than most are led to believe, you of course see this with your astute eye, you know when to disregard a second thought.  You're a true and wise friend, you desire the sympathetic touch and sensual kiss, because these, you know I can offer.  And you understand that there is a false comfort which rests with the imaginary; the gods and fairies, the ents and spirits.

How upset these people become when asked inquisitively by an outsider, an outsider who desires the secular and is unaware of the phantoms who would lead and judge her.  She sees these people relentlessly grasping for the unknown even though they've already found what they're looking for.  They exist in a perpetual segue as they ask the people who already know the answers to their questions.

They fear the truth that they've been given, the structure, the morals, and the judgements.  It's all too perfect; but to deny it means to abandon all that they've known.  A clean slate might appeal to some, but after the denial they're left with a wound which can only be mended alone.  Long has the medicine been the warm milk and honey of certainty, the sweet smell, the taste so dear, the recipe for slumber.

You my friend, desire my gentle touch on your shoulder and your soaking tears on mine.  You can see the stagnant flux, and the cyclic vibrations of striving for truth.

I love and respect you.