The Wisewoman

the wisewo/man s/he’s almost smiling at all times of the day, like there’s some secret that only s/he knows but that which only s/he is completely ignorant of, as it’s clear to her/him that to know anything is to pause in the act of learning, so as to assert a place of stagnation which most would call conclusive evidence. s/he walks with no speed & is always listening, s/he’s the friend that is always there, but never needed, s/he has the right advice at the wrong times & won’t give it at the times one insists desperately that they cannot do without. s/he does not shy from the spotlight & for that there never is one looking, s/he resides in the most content of nowheres & the everyday piles upon the next, s/he has a knowledge of self as much as the next & is never insisting that this is the case, wondering just when it will all be proven wrong, s/he cares not for elements of “faith” or “trust” or words that represent these supposed feelings, s/he exists in the process of the moment & finds meaning in the juggling of laughs which increase the smiling around her/him.