i resent

resentment! what a strange word in my vocabulary it is. it is a foreign word in this vocabulary of mine. here in the place of horses and egos, my resentment has found a home.

i talked with you yesterday, you called, i answered, we both had no time. we connected. i feel naive and humbled. i am tasting sadness like i have never tasted sadness before. you told me about your back and your kidneys, and i told you about that secret that i keep hidden in plain sight, my pain.

i resent that she never took action to touch me. i do not resent being ignored.

it is strange that time and again you appear in my life to comfort me. you are a muse, you are inspiration, and you are imperfection itself.

are my sadness and pain the expression of my resentment? i do not resent not being acknowledged.

how can i tell you that it was not in the arms of another but in his arms i found that warmth that i dreamt could exist? when he found me i had so much resigned to my own solitude. now i need you the muse, and i need him the one of my one, his own.

i resent the deception. i see the suffering. i find myself powerless. i can only observe. but do i feel? do i care? i resent.

it was good

it was good to sit around a table with you and just relax, listen, and be.

once i asked another very dear to me how it was that he could stand to live with a person whose ego is ostentatious and unbearable. he smiled, shrugged his shoulders and told me that it builds his character. recently i have been facing lots of opportunities to build my character in this manner. when i encounter such an individual, i am tempted on occasions to just bury my head in the sand and ignore them. however having my head in the sand is not much help in either developing character, building reality or being present to existence. burying my head in the sand is denial. burying my head in the sand is being out of relationship.

i had a short talk in the shower room with her. we talked about my relationship with you. i felt her insecurity, and i wanted her to be reassured. afterwards i was left thinking that perhaps people do not really want reassurance while living in virtual insecurity and fighting for possession.

i had been scaling the walls of some fantastic mountain without any ground under my feet when i first met you. it was many years ago, and i did not even know that i had found myself scaling a mountain, much less that the ground under my feet was missing. i was lost, i did not see you. then one day, i found myself on the mountain and you were standing on my side. vertigo!

it was good to sit around a table with you and just relax, listen, and be.

i feel silence. silence.

why is it that instead of saying thank you, i say that i love you?

seven days and seven nights

it is strange that it would be here that i return. it is even stranger that it is to you that i write this note. do you know who you are?

just a few days ago we held each other and you said something about finally. finally all is well. finally, now, here we are. that i had the nerve to hold you tight and lift you off the floor did remind me of how very real this muse of mine whom you have incarnated is. how very real, and how very mortal you are!

i like that space that is imagined between you and i. it allows me to be me. i like your curiosity, and i like your admiration that are aimed at me. i like it that you say that you do not want to know, because you are afraid that you might understand. then i am the curious one, and do wonder what that in itself might mean. i like how ethereal and surreal this is between us. i have described this between us as a privileged relationship. it is to me, and i do not know what and if you call it anything at all. it really does not matter, does it?

it is good to love and to not care, to really not give a damn, not really. it is good to be present to what is. it is good to give up. it is good to not want. it is really good.

we are not always that blissful and privileged, are we?

you need her and i need him. there, you with her and i with him, neither of us has yet that much freedom and abandon. with them we are passionate and confused, not free. will we ever share with them what we now know to be a reality?

would it make a difference?

pain, addiction and the generality of nothing

i think. sometimes. maybe. all i need is the smallest of all gestures, and then i am calm again. you show up in the remotest corner of my horizon, you are peace. oh, i do not understand this, and i am delighted in my lack of understanding. would we be able to access solitude and silence in the nurturing arms of each other's respect?

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embrace

fragility, insecurity, doubt, and the whole of what makes us imperfect, makes you and i so alive and real.

the ideal, the dream, the utopia, and all the wonderful constructs of abstraction and fiction, those too are real.

i just do not want to confuse the physical reality with the abstract reality.

we talked and i smiled my mask, i talked a lot, and what i want most is to share silence with you. i love the words, i live with the words, and with you, why would i need words?

there is no argument, no reason, and no wisdom that will make you cross that bridge between us. silence is the bridge, and it needs no argument, no reason and no wisdom.

my invitation is sincere, you embracing it is more than i have expected. i expect nothing, i am ready for all.

between the muses and the angels, i am already in paradise.

imagine

letter to an angel i could not have imagined it. this is not the first time that this happens. i plod along in my seemingly meaningless life, and then there is a call from you. you call, you express yourself and i listen. this happens: we hold hands, we sleep, we eat, we love. yet there is something that i have learned during the past weeks away from that which is not yet routine, yet begs to become routine: the writing, the expression, the exploration, the weaving and the synthesis of so much that we share and experience. imagine that i spend one week in that place where we often had dinner together and i listened to you and your struggles. there, in the hectic of that city that we love and hate, there i did not think of you, yet you were constantly present. imagine the freedom that we share in having each other's incomprehensible touch being experienced throughout time and space. imagine! imagine ecstasy, and imagine the fear. imagine it all. want nothing. not you. not me. just nothing at all, imagine!