de bene esse

but who knows, or better yet, who cares? you are dead. dead. i can not and will not comprehend any of it. just about a week ago we held hands for the last time and neither of us knew that it would be the last time. each time that i walked out the door, i did wonder if i would ever return. after all, i reasoned, anything could happen to me and make me a statistic in a natural catastrophe or of a technical mishap. we have all been waiting for your death, and nobody ever dared to ask how long it would take until you were relieved from feeling your fast decaying body yield to disfunction. remember when your diagnosis came and we discussed suicide? you were afraid of the pain and the suffering; morphine helped. you never read what i wrote, and that was just fine with me; i liked this foreignness in our relationship. i brought you books written by my favorite authors and you read them. i shared with you a bit of my world, or at least i tried.

just about six months ago i showed you a corner of my life that i had never shared before, we had tea. i took you to a corner of my world, a world that was very foreign to you, and a world that disoriented you. we shared a room on occasions, and on others i made you endure my culinary diversions, you gave frank comment and pointed critic, and often we laughed about my experimentation. now one thing stands for sure, and that is that that picnic we had planned is just not going to take place.

what i wonder now is how quickly you resigned to your ill fate, you knew that you did not have much longer to live, you were paralyzed, you could barely speak, and you did not loose your sense of humour. there was no rage and anger in you, you just endured the suffering, rejoiced at the pretty faces of the medical staff, and you held my hand.

thank you for holding my hand, and sharing my world.

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?

i am scared

remember that we laughed just a few days ago, and do remember that that is exactly what just a few months past, i had no idea could ever happen.

remember laughing and thinking nothing of it, knowing that it all means nothing, that is ecstasy. remember?

remember how you have been my muse for the past few years?

i think that without you i would have succumbed long ago. without you i would have perished in my loneliness, without you i would have disintegrated within my own forces.

without you, i say. what do i say?

now i am facing a new sheath of fear. what is the dagger's nature so intimately embraced by that sheath?

does the sheath envelope the dagger, or does it protect me from its nature?

what is this that i am feeling now?

i am so very tired of this multitude of foreign feelings! do not let me get lost in their chaos!

in all the years that i have known you, for the first time i imagine the intimacy of our struggle.

i am scared, i need to remember the lightness of our laughter. i need to remember the lightness of my laughter.

could it be that i just need to forget all?

colouring my world with the sentiments of your existence

i watched you recently. the minute that you began speaking, i started to shudder. how can you dare to touch us all so with just your very own rawness?

"one day one asks me if i am alone, and i give semblance of ignoring such a message. i do not answer, i do not even spend time interpreting it. it could all mean so much, and perhaps it means nothing at all. on that same day another tells me that no, he does not want to hear all the details, he is afraid that he might understand."

i have also experienced you differently, i have felt you when you totally disappear in reaching out to all, and out there what the others experience is the one that can not be touched or reached. yet that one whom you are becomes so very present within the others that they forget that it is you who is giving them the moment. when i experience you like that, then i really want to cry because you can't see what you are giving, and sometimes i wonder if you even prefer to live in that ignorance.

"i am a foreign emotion, and emotions are alone and unconquerable. think of it as an error in the matrix, or a discontinuity in perception, and i tell you that it is all real, all that i am is very real, all that you feel is real. real and alone we remain. i never wanted anything else, i never dreamed of anything else.

no, even as you remain a precious muse, and i may continue to maintain all my attention and vigilance to what i sense in your presence, i will not explain it to you, you already know and your fear of understanding is not mine, it is yours, and i shall leave you alone with that fear.

are we ever alone when we are alive? isn't loneliness just that fear of understanding? what would it be like if you were to give up that fear of understanding?"

we will fall in love again, we will. we do each time that we look at each other, we do fall in love. each time that that we embrace, we fall in love, we do. each time... again and again...

it is nothing that i need to promise you, it is something that we know.

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?

powered by performancing firefox