…the cynic, the sad, the fallen,

Who had no strength for the strife,

The so-called “Xanga Team” describes eprops as a token of good will.  Wishing others well; I am not stingy with them.  And yet, I seldom leave comments.  I don’t comment here for the same reason that I don’t comment in real life: I am afraid of demeaning the work of the one to whom I am commenting.  For those I wish to praise, I am afraid of seeming to be fawning.  To those I wish to criticize, I am afraid of being too harsh, or misunderstanding.  Hence; many of my comments come in the form of questions.  If I don’t understand something, or if I need clarification, or if I want to hear more, I don’t hesitate to say so.  I feel badly though, because I often wonder if I am neglecting to encourage those who need it the most.

            Several years ago, I tried to start a discussion with an acquaintance about a little poem he had written, telling him how clever and intelligently done I thought it was.  He almost cried because he had written it years before, and he said, I was the first person to ever understand what he was trying to express.  I was the first person who hadn’t dismissed it as showing-off, or feigned comprehension and said “Wow, that’s deep”.  Rather than encourage me to be more verbose in my analysis of others’ works, the experience made me more hesitant to speak out; for fear of taking the place of those other callous readers.  I would be horrified if I ever were to frustrate someone because I misunderstood their art.   What I’m getting at here is this; If I leave you eprops without comment, it does not mean that I did not slowly, carefully, and repeatedly read your entry.  It does not mean that it failed to fill me with wonder.  It does not mean that I did not copy it into my files of things that I want to read again and again.  It simply means that I submitted to my own cowardice and sought refuge in my silences.

            “…It is not that I am fearless, so much as it is that I have uncommon fears.”