Contemplation finds itself
when moods have stormed away,
and I can sit alone and grey
upon a cold and cloudy day.
I watch the sky slow-rotate round
while I wait, lowly, on the ground.
So calm when all my fire’s spent
I feel the pulse where blood has went
from heart to head and back again.
I wonder–sometimes–all alone
what I would be if I were shown
the view from up above.
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Photo by Ümit Bulut on Unsplash
melenoria 
I wonder about that, too.
Some people seek, or claim to have such an overhead view.
But then they speak … loudly enough or often enough so you can tell that they don’t.
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Two quotes come to mind:
“Even a fool when he is silent is considered wise.“
“Better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
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