another storm

how very easy it would be to discount all of this between you and me as fantasy!

how very easy it would be for another to inject malice between the empty lines and destroy the very beauty of the air that we breathe!

how very easy it would be to just ignore the existence of each breath and the power of silence!

how very easy it would be to just ignore my own existence!

there are days that that is exactly how i feel. i feel nothing, nothing at all. i imagine that your existence, thus mine, is nothing but a figment of some imagination protracted from the depths of some pseudo-conscience inhabiting this body with ten writing fingers and no soul. on days like these i listen to la solitude and every single word goes trough me as it being the only possessions that i can ever hope for. on days like these, i also no not know hope. why would i even want to know hope? hope is a foreign invention that does not concern me.

i wonder why i hang on to life without any effort and why it is that i wanted to be born on this earth. did you ever ask yourself the question of why you wanted to be born? i think of you, the autonomous you, that you distinct from my conjugations of the image that i sense, and i have no doubts to the very reason of your being. there is no reason for your being; you are a being of the universe, you are not mine, you never will be. what is it like to explore experiencing that being whom you are?

i do not know. or i do not want to know, for in knowing is to taste from the fruit of paradise.

 

on s'approche

if there was something that i would not have dreamed in my dreams, it was our conversation last night. today i found myself describing that very conversation of ours as surreal. was it really you who called me, and did we say what we said?

are you bent on teaching me abandon and surrender?

how good it was to hear your voice! how delighted my ego was that you missed me this past weekend!

how very surreal the whole of this life of ours is!

in the next few weeks... who knows what will happen?

i don't know. do you?

i know that it is time to get back talking with a man in black, a man who asked me the one most brilliant question that anybody has asked me in the past year, and a question that sent me toppling down and up the insipid contraptions of my existence. when i first saw this man in black, i thought that it was you that i was seeing. i experienced transference like i have never experienced it before!

instead of seeing the man in black, i saw you. i fell in love with that image, and i got as confused as only the very muddled can. you seemed so distance, so remote and yet so damn present. how on earth was i going to reach you? any image of you was good enough at the time. anything to avoid the fear that our intimacy aroused. that was last year.

this year entered and with it a new oracle: may your most daring dreams turn into reality!

those dreams are starting to emerge in my reality, those daring dreams that i have been nursing for years, even for as far as i can remember. so, tell me, why the fuck am i feeling guilty and disoriented and why on earth is it that whenever my not so little ego is about to throw a fit, you are there to soothe its fury?

i wonder how it is that we have chosen to live these contingent lives of ours, and i wonder how long it will take one of us to figure out that in living those dreams, we do not shatter the beauty that surround them.

go, go on your way. i am on my way, and together our dreams emerge radiant and daring. i meant every single word of what i said last night, and you do know it. from knowing to accepting, what kind of bridge are we going to build?

i, like you, had no idea that when i embarked on this path, that it would be a path of the spirit. choice is ours.

 

the muses

all of you!

is it delightful? is it ecstatic? what is it like to have a muse here and muse there, and a muse everywhere?

pleasure, insatiable longing, infinite desire and my muses. to feel the need and seduction of a muse, to go beyond one's skin and mind, to look at you and know that there is absolutely nothing of importance in the world other than this very moment!

i am in a frenzy, there is a flurry of emotions that i do not want. i think of the angels and all the muses, all the divine presences in this divine goddess' existence and i know that death is nothing but life itself.

yesterday i write to one who to me is too mortal and too human to be an ethereal muse of mine and i do tell him how very impossible it is for me to keep out of trouble. what were my exact words?

trouble and i have formed a loyalty pact long ago, i wrote.

i have seen my reason torn apart by loyalty conflicts and my self-respect discarded like an useless appendage, all the recourse was to make that pact with trouble. was that all the choice that i had?

i feel drunk with emotion, and i want none of this dizziness. i want my freedom, i want my peace, and i want the kisses of my muses. i want those ethereal, surreal, and cognitive kisses that only muses are capable of! i have all of those kisses, and then they overwhelm me.

i want excuses for my lack of insight, i want excuses for my shortsightedness, i wand excuses to not have to worry about anything. i am tired of existential struggles. i am tired of concepts, and i am tired of expectations.

deep down, in a place to which i have no access, i know that all works out. apples fall to the ground subject to gravity, and i will die expressed subject to my muses.

subjugation, surrender and total entanglement do not sound like what i wanted. but then what i wanted yesterday is never what i get today, it is always infinitely better

existentialism is doctrine that concentrates on the existence of the individual, who, being free and responsible, is held to be what he makes himself by the self-development of his essence through acts of the will (which, in the christian form of the theory, leads to god) <cited from the OED >. it takes a dictionary to tell me that existentialism is a doctrine and then it takes me to realize that a doctrine is a teaching based on some concepts that may or may not have any essential or universal truths in them!

i am not sure that i like where i lead myself on monday. i thought that i wanted to break through this barrier that almost paralyzes me, and i know my muses have been there guiding me in the confrontations and comforting of my being. i am a bit overwhelmed with all this insight and i am tired of being on the edge of what i want to do and to just dabble on it without plunging head first into it. i need help, i need support, i need encouragement, i need nurturance.

i needed a mother all my life, i looked for her all my life. i found mothers in all the unlikely places. i divorced myself from gender and i did not care who was mothering me as long as my needs were met. do we ever care? do i ever care? what is it to care?

what is it to be loyal? loyal to my troubles and on the path of serenity would describe the state of affairs right now. the affairs, the muses, the loves. yesterday is gone. monday was one day to carry forward, a frightening day when i dared ask the one question that has burdened me for almost as long as i can remember.

when i look at the strength of my muses, it is no wonder that i fall in awe with their sheer power. it is in a smile and a reticence, it is in an accepting glance, it is a firm grip and three words in between a whole lot of silence, it is in the silence, in all of that i see your strength. it is a collusion of sorts that makes me ill at ease. if that is also my strength, that strength that we draw from our weaknesses. is that is so, we have pierced that barrier that is unmentionable, unnamed and unimaginable...

to be a muse, to be my muse is not a matter of choice. it was not my choice, and it was not your choice. what is manifests itself. you can resist, you can fight it, and you can do anything you want. nothing will help, not even the resistance, not even the struggle, especially not the fights, and certainly not the pain; what is, is.