And what is knowledge,
Other than glorified, or ignored, interpretation?
The meaning of a thing,
Of your idea,
Or mine.
Necessary because you can not show me what you mean,
At least not literally, for I am not rooted in your reality,
So I may take it a different way.
And so there is constant legitimization to those who
Say “I meant it like this.”
And then so it is,
A found, perfect defense,
Of which we cannot dispute.
We do this while also applauding those
Who respond with fiery tenacity,
“Well, I took it this way.”
Well, then checkmate.
Scream atop the rooftops your messy, contested discourse,
And mix it in alongside the shadow
Of culture and history,
Allowing for the perfect recipe,
For there to never be
A clear winner,
But be prepared to accept that I know not what you mean.
