Grandfather Heron

The shaded stoic heron man
sought the light to speak
So selective and infrequent
that each statement opened its gaping maw
Tongue unfurling many tendrils
Of potent potential thought;

“To teach the truth seekers”
He cautioned
“They show them the truth. It shakes them, rag and bone, to an aged ragged youth.”

“To train the truth tellers,”
He extended his heed,
“They let them speak. It breaks them, revealing endless phrasings leave them short, shunned, spun spurned & weak.”

“Heads spiral at a weather vein crossing, necks snake in the twisting winds. Right and wrong reduced to theory, infinite options valley and peak.”
Grandfather Heron bowed to nest his beak
Upon his rising chest
Raised a brow and curled his wings
To beard his shape, shifting to rest
“Dimensions of choice fly overhead,
Where to bend and when to stick?
Is this system certainly fixed?
is it open to influence?
If you seek answers be prepared
To find more questions in their stead”