fear

naked, bare, raw.

fear.

paralyzing fear.

i want to hide under a rock i want all the dread to disappear i want none of the drudgery

i want the fear to run scared

i do not want the fear!

what is fear? why does it grab me?

why does it torture me?

i call it fear...

is it fear?

is it repressed fear?

i want to cry

i want to ask you

was i born like this?

 

tremulous

what is the sound of the monk's silence?

yes, i am asking you. you the muse, you the teacher, you the man, you the mirror of my imperfection, you the want of my strength; i am asking you what the sound of this monk's silence is.

i ask you what the smell of the moon is, what the perfume of the hours will bring, and i ask you all the impossible questions that i can only ask of you.

you have constantly been around dancing in the silence of my numbness. you tempt me, you seduce me, you are indulgence in flagrant!

my desire for you shall not cease, yet my lust has no desire. my power is infinite, yet my strength is not.

i get a tremulous shimmer of vindication, and i think of you. you are the very ecstasy of an abstraction.

listening to tango... dancing

you feel remote and palpably close. how can this be?

i also feel exhausted today, and it is in the cradle of the melody that i search for your warmth. how did this happen?

you. me. nobody.

did it ever happen to you that you are restless and then a word crosses your path, an idea transgresses regret and there you are, you found that that you did not even know you were searching for?

something along those lines has just happened. it is not eureka, it is not exuberant... it sneaks up on me, and it not ah-ah... it is oh! oh my! now i know. i know nothing.

let me tell you that i found myself having a most fascinating dialogue today over the web with a fellow that i have known for a few years. no, i am not ready to tell you this story, it would be like shinning light on a silver halide film yet to be exposed.

i feel exhausted, really exhausted. i want to curl up in my bed with a blanket and the book that i am currently reading, "istanbul" by orhan pamuk, and gently fall asleep in the arms of my muse.