Pity the Feeling

On top of Everest, in my mind,a dark cloud, lightning blasts, a hurricane of controversies, unwindbelow, nonsense sea, fish net casts.The Sherpa is fishing aboutprefers an understanding cartel.Procrustean commodities—easier without a heart, a totalitarian Tinkerbell.Feelings, the repugnant social Other,are the dream within the dream.Before we think, we must feel, brother,a mind | heart alone, cannot reign supreme.

Uncle Walt

"To be servile to none, to defer to none, not to any tyrant known or unknown... No fumes, no ennui, no more complaints or scornful criticisms, ...And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me." —Walt Whitman, "A Song of Joys." Leaves of Grass. h/t Daily Stoic.