Once upon a time, everybody lent the sea-goat a polite ear. Sea creature that it is, it ironically breathes flame, which yet, ironically gives a sense of false authority. Even with good intentions, its opinion was valued less. At most, a loud mouth is a source of cheap amusement.

How could a flame be treated ice-cold? Fire gives life but is just as capable of destruction. A dazzle sustains light and warmth, enough to nurture and protect. But a blaze eats away everything, even the simplest of joys.

It was showered with obligatory reverence, having come to life's winter. Hard working and persevering that it was in its spring, it became selfish and attention-hogging. After ripening comes decline, which causes reason to wither.

Day after day, it tries to get its way, never worrying if the means were at all, fair. When plans materialize, it yet whines still if only to command an ear all over again. Day after day, there is another chance for a ball. And even when there had been none, the enthusiasm that there is going to be another day is never gone.

Taking things in stride, the sea-goat seldom takes offense until one day, truth came forth some other mouth. Today, the flock barely holds back the tongue as well as listen. Essential in survival that fire is, one still has to walk away to hunt, which is just as crucial.

With prejudice for convenience, the old horn refuses to accept the reality of an even  more treacherous jungle for horns beginning the journey. If it only knew, all it takes is meeting them halfway and take its turn to lend an ear for all of them to come full circle and be whole.

There's one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying east and west -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.
~Ella Wheeler Wilcox