He calls him again, this time the ballyhooed subtleness of his nerve branded in repeated phrases that appear destined for mind trashing. At first, he claims not to comprehend the decision his listener seems to insist is final. Then, he protests with vigour, a distinct departure from a pastoral mien, the conversion, instantaneous.
For a moment, nothing seems to happen. He later says he is still thinking. Many of his friends support him. A self-confessed patron of the rejects, he admits it is inconsistent with his avowed bent. Nonetheless, he does not stop. He calls him everyday, and dismisses any suggestion that it is too late for change.
It is clear that he wants things to work, but his own way. With a record openly coveted by even his friends, one that forecloses antipathy for humbug, the very essence of an enduring will to change the values he claims fritters the chances all seem so much to crave for so long, it must strike many that the path he treads does not seem readily navigable.
When he declares that he no longer needs the support of the affirmed curator of a hitherto polyphonic narrative, the direction matters head must have become immediately obvious to all. This is more so given the very public nature of the divergence, one though not likely to surprise some of his most ardent followers, who continue to extol his virtues, which they spin it seems with stupefying magic.
He retreats into limbos, what his detractors deem another of his calculated makeovers that merely exude a choleric emptiness that even a cherubic exhibition cannot plug. Not even his clearly frenetic image machine seems able to help at times, a signal he admits of an undue quaff of a dubious mould. Some wonder aloud the prospects of an amalgam with the cavernous hum that threatens to implode he promises to drown.
Yet, he seems to be going nowhere. His acknowledged concern about the stagnation that plagues the logistics that his cronies often present as the blueprint for progress many say attests to the falsity of his claims to be the one everyone claims mores instruct must eventually emerge to address the defining issues of a generation.
Not one to give up though, an image he cultivates routinely since his acclamation by the very hegemony whose legitimacy he now queries, the reason many concur with his ascendancy he says validates his style, and nullifies that of the progenitors of the issues whose resolution would herald a new dawn.
He reiterates his decision to embark solo enrolling with increasingly verbose rhetoric souls he says are afloat in a universal conversion to the mode that would move all forward and not just rearrange what all openly concede is epigenetic. That the glaring obstacles he faces some argue precludes an appraisal of such intentions in objective ways does not seem to faze him given his rebuttal of those of his critics as rooted in the finesse that they lack in proselytizing essentially atavistic inclinations, a position elements of his core ward declare puts his worldview in jeopardy.
Often regarded as ahead of his stated goal, it defies reason many contend for so much to pivot under dire circumstances not least which attenuates the tedium that should be the wellspring of action, what some of his friends seemingly perceive as capitulating to the inert ways of yore.
He agrees he has to move faster to diffuse the tension within that permeates the wall of comradeship that drives a timeless space; one that seems acknowledged extenuates the limbos, which is often his veritable sanctuary. He tries, or so it seems to extrude the angst that torment him he admits.
His friends advice him to tone the tempo but he sees matters slightly differently it appears. After a contentious self-examination he tells his listeners at a caucus meeting is about to change his approach to the issues that remains prominent in the overall scheme, he is aghast as he watches a section leave.
Soon after, he reveals his promise to a wider audience at another meeting supposedly to advance consensus in new ways, with his offers of a decisive look at the demands of his critics screaming at his erstwhile friends that now see him as an outsider.
For days he is up most of the night, thinking he says in response to the constant query in his mind adopting such an atypical stance as an overpowering urge leads him he recalls, on the day that he says he intends to resolve certain troubling issues that bother him once and for all.
From now on he says he no longer wants to struggle with his fate. He grows leaner and older by the day some say, vacillating over something he appears powerless to change. He seems in the end to agree with his critics that he needs support, even as his friends desert him one after the other.
He admits to the enormity of the challenges he faces and the need for a more pervasive approach to an inevitable intercourse. It is obvious that change has overwhelmed him, and he seeks solace in a perspective that inherently he embraces but seems obliged to jettison for reasons he shudders to state.
With time, he finds it easier to convince his friends and foes alike of the nobility of his intentions. He relishes it seems the prospects of being able to realize his dream after all, this time with a little help from even those with whom the divide in an outlook to shared perspectives still seems huge.
At last he makes the call. He says he agrees with the decision he earlier rejected. He says though that he only agrees to pave way for the progress he so cherishes and for which he still thinks he must fight. He insists he is not interested in a fight that bears the fruits of rancour, but that of peace, from which progress emanates to fortify its roots, eternal peace, once and for all.
