by Peter Runfola
Servant / sail / met / boxes
‘Servant to my soul.’ In other words: my ‘free will.’ Possibly one of the most grandly ironic pairing of words since Webster had the mind to categorize – alphabetically, no less .. each and every one of their own peculiar selves … every word .. good, bad, ridiculous, sublime and / or any combination of such – known to mankind.
He would sail into their pasts. Share with the world their ‘parents.’ As well as any alternative lives they sometimes lead when paired with a brother from a different mother.
As an aside: Yeow … what thought could have possibly popped into his head – in what setting – to inspire him to undertake a task of such incredible nuance & breadth? To categorize – alphabetically, no less – every word known to mankind?
Perhaps we’ll never know. But, nonetheless, we shall indirectly continue to silently thank him day in & day out ..word in & word out .. this specific moment, in actuality. Thank him for his role in helping to preserve that rarest of rare gifts. language. Which he chose to categorize & subsequently bestow on mankind in general: Alphabetically, no less. In a compendium of sorts. A dictionary. Whose contents delineate & deliver to .. you .. and .. yours nothing less than:
Simply and succinctly: The gift of communication.
A gift You & I – whether we’ve met or not – right at this precise moment – are both opening up. Even though for me, right now: ‘right at this precise moment’ will be in variance with & from your ‘right at this precise moment.’
For, I am writing this unique concoction of letter configurations to you … “NOW.” That is, MY “NOW.” But you won’t be seeing them until YOUR “NOW.”
Which is to say: “THEN.” At least, from my perspective.
And, interestingly enough, when the time comes that you .. are .. reading .. these .. precise .. words .. from .. me, even though you may be experiencing an undeniable and completely understandable sense of “NOW,” I maintain that you are actually reading them … ‘THEN.” Which is how your upcoming ‘NOW’ translates to me. A quasi-impossible melding of times, tenses and transmutations all wrapped up nice and tidy. An array of gift boxes which keeps on giving and giving.
And .. where would you & I be without them? Writing aimlessly. Saying neither Hello nor Goodbye. All the while confusing & confounding all those near and dear.
Through our gifts of letters, in general. And, their offspring: words, in particular.
…. THE END ….