The written word verges on the absurd

The written word verges on the absurd. It attempts to express the inexpressible; the imperfect murmurs of the soul. Through the pen, a fiend ennobles himself; the coward pilfers accolades reserved for the brave. Words deceive. Words enrapture. They tempt and seduce - beautifying lies and falsehood for the solipsist's ear. "I'll tell you what you want," the sycophant says. Don't you sense it? Can you not sense the venom bubbling below spineless toadying? This reflects the duplicitous nature of the word. Much like anything else in a "modern" world, appearances seduce and intoxicate. But without the word, there is no communication. Without the word, there is no encounter. Without the word, relationship is impossible. By stepping out of the cocoon of the individual soul, I invariably encounter duplicity masked as "authenticity". That is the risk of turning to the other. But without trust, we are deprived of our humanity. Without trust, we remain objects, employed in the pursuit of abstract Ends or fodder exhausted for parochial machinations. In order to hold back the growth of techno-bureaucratic mechanisms over the actual life between human beings, we ought to recover our mutual subjectivity; subjectivity made present in turning to and encountering others. Hence, the word - for it to be genuine - remains invariably exposed to the risk of falsehood. The word makes claim to purity, however, remains most hazardous to humanity. And when we approach others with persistent cynicism, falsehood reigns. But in turning to others in a spirit of trust, we understand and work towards the genuine word - spoken between I and Thou.