Joy

Within earshot of my writing desk, in three regimented interludes on scholastic “school daze” punctuated by the usual monotonous timed buzzer an event of pure, wild fury erupts that shatters all silence and predictable order. A torrent of bubbling, effervescent young ragamuffins and colorful, heedless urchins escape from the barred doors and carefully controlled classrooms to riot and rage in what is simply a wild and shrieking spectacle of irrepressible playground joy and freedom.

I suspect that if that if that boundless energy were to be chained and bottled up within the walls of established dictatorial education without these carefully controlled safety releases, it would simply be a matter of time before the entire repressive structure would be blown to smithereens and every molecule of that autocratic institution in a human thermonuclear event would be scattered forever to the four corners of this universe.

And trying to understand why this spectacular, joyful release in screaming, petulant ecstasy is absolutely uncontrollable and vital to their young vibrant lives is just as inexplicable and elusive as the reason why birds sing, or why the torrent of this magnificent universe in rhythmic, eternal harmony resists and eventually overwhelms every ignorant, pathetic effort we mortal humans make to chain and control it.

Do I remember that wild joy of youth that long ago throbbed and rode effervescent and lawless in the thrill of pure life itself?  No. Not really.

“…Though I sang in my chains like the sea.”

Quote from Fern Hill; poem by Dylan Thomas

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