Plowshares do more damage than swords. Ask any bison, those blades are worse than arson. Open wounds, festering with foreign grains...placed by a horde of ignorant, desperate, deluded, fortune seekers, driven west by more of the same logic that turned Europe into hell. 

            Active Peacekeeping.  Truth, targeted...with absolute precision into the heart of the dark, black knight. Light, into darkness, a pin prick...less even, delivered with loving intentions, not colonial expectations. We are not staying. We are going back to the doublewide in the hills, and tomorrow we will be somewhere else, or back again, depending on all other things, everywhere. 

                                         We Don’t Know

             I know she knows, but won’t say...or cannot say, because she is not a physicist...I’m stuck with best guesses, as I wait and see. I’ve learned from watching her all that I am absolutely certain of.  I’m trying to learn, and practice; my unstrung bow in the shed and my arrows, eleven good and one with a bad knock, next to my shoes in the spare room where I prepare for departure, seven days a week. 

           I work with Swiss steel, close to my hip, and a bandanna, pocketed. Force of habit mostly. I don’t have any of the three languages in me...my english a derivative, coarse, not native here, where I guess what native might be, in real time based on decades of my failed attempts to do just that.

           I’m fine with chopsticks, and could trade for them and a bowl of rice. I’ve got Swiss steel, pocketed, and a bandanna made in China, with the A in China upside down printed on the soft cotton, shipped by Amazon, like the Swiss steel, and books that I have ordered in my sleep, apparently. 

            The tools of an active peacekeeper...my tools, are, Ive been told, the tools  of an old man. Old men carry small jackknifes and soft bandannas. I am what I am. She is what she is, and I know that, but not much more than that, as I practice active peacekeeping, seven days a week. 

              I was a shooter, better than average. I was a very active shooter, but now most of my images are collected on an obsolete I phone, on three obsolete I phones, actually. I forget to charge them. 

              I shot in schools, I shot governors, up close...admirals, generals, a future Vice President, Rock stars...you name it. I was a very active shooter. 

               I’m as obsolete as my I phones, and not driving. I’m doing Counter Intelligence...a byproduct of active peacekeeping, part-time, in real time, in the field.  Strength through peace.  I’m selling the in progress  OS inspired Raytheon5 for six hundred k, now that I’ve hit fifty one pages...after doing the field work, and leaking here, and speaking directly to the MIC, for the record. 

                In closing, I’d like to again thank my fellow Our Salon few, and especially those who post, read, comment, and like the contributions so few of us choose to make. Like most of you, I am seriously committed to democracy, justice, free speech, and peacekeeping. She knows, and I am certain that she does. The light...will find those who look to it, the rest, well, the best of us try our best to get them some, calmly, assertively...patiently. 

                                                             

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