Julius Caesar lost out to 23 conspiring cowards for what history calls his last day, this one, the Ides of March. Isn’t it fitting that to them, he was the only exception? And they, for his downfall (and any coward collective, anywhere!) may be aptly described as Casual Juries.
Quite the shoe-fits as an anagram of Julius Caesar.
The threads that hold us together – or fray for forays of confusion before confirmation – are sewn where we seed them because of our need to sometimes-sample and sometimes-snuff what comes of that farming.
Inside it, or in the prowess of looking back upon, the denial or dancing-after respectively is some anagram of our pain. Shuffled. For different gleaning, meaning, and preening.
Ista Quidem Vis Est ~ or throw me to the wolves at night, I’ll fight a good fight. Throw me in the wildfire, I’ll fight the good fight… Caesar, Joan of Arc, Noah, Nat King Cole or Alexander McQueen… would know the same inside-perspective of the days of delight and dark to them, as each of us do – to us. As shuffled. For different gleaning, meaning, and preening.
So whether more hark or lark, finding one anagram for IDES OF MARCH to read FIRMED CHAOS is mine here.
Welcome to the Church of Me.