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Encompassed

I could say my comments about this powerful monologue, but it would be nowhere close to the listener knowing the depths of me. That of which is my intellect and my insight, my sight and my far sight, my chronicle and my temperament today. . . I do not appreciate that thought of those who presume to know me. These words would mean much more if the person I am now was or is to be dead. I capitalize on my available correspondents though I descend further into dissatisfaction. Or is that an ascending route?

I’ve stated some of my listeners as spectators for they sit and try to level me. They’ve said either nothing or thin and vague critiques - my sentiments sometimes becoming obsolete as they encompassed them with contempt. But what can I possibly say to produce an understanding through..them?

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