Life, death, and renewal

It's a strange realization to know that someone can be the cause of so much of your life's agitation.

When you first realize that the attraction exists, usually you might wave it off as a silly crush, or even just passing admiration. But as time passes you realize it goes much deeper than you originally thought. Your gazes linger just a little bit longer, you smile just a little bit warmer, you go out of your way to be just a little bit kinder. You do things that you would never do for anyone else, you go places you would never go normally because they're waiting for you there. Ultimately you're faced with the prospect that you've become a blubbering idiot. And you couldn't be any happier.

But this is where life becomes something less than a sappy movie with a happy ending. Circumstances prevent the two of you from ever coming together, and you know it. It's one of those absolute truths that cannot be fought. And woe to those who think they can convince their heart otherwise. Once it has made its choice, it cannot be swayed.

So what do you do? Your heart has been anchored to an unreachable shore. All you can do is flee in the other direction, and hope that distance, a bit like absence, will not make the heart grow fonder. And sometimes, as luck would have it, it works. But the joke's on you because it only works if you maintain that distance. And if you keep relying on running away as a defense mechanism, where will that leave you after you've chased your demons across the globe? And what about the rest of your life? It's virtually impossible to transplant your job, your family, your friends. Your secret heartache isn't the only thing you would abandon.

So you're stuck.

Your love life, your ultimate happiness is suspended in purgatory while there. While you accept your fate as being simply "just a friend", you nevertheless feel you are a prisoner of your own emotions. Your only chance is to risk everything and escape, a prospect that becomes more and more appealing with each passing day as you come to the further realization that life moves on, whether or not you're ready for it.




So what do you do?

Seeing our scripts revealed

thiS is the torch that lights my reason, my terrible injustice.
thIs is the door to false potential, my genuine desire.
tHis is the song in all its glory, my hesitant nirvana.
This is the bane of my existence, my intricate messiah.

And so much more

At first, I was just playing around with iambic tetrameter, seeking some sort of creative release in the face of purely analytical classes. And then, it mutated into this.

Untitled

It seems the truth has been unbound.

By circumstance and hapless fool,
reason failed me, logic cruel.
In wand'ring here I found you frayed,
sleeping still by verdant glade.
Emerging chaste 'neath starry skies,
you beguiled with sanguine eyes.
At first companion, wreathed in doubt,
rival second, spite without.
And day by day the seasons passed,
revolutions, far and vast.
Ephem'ral warmth, egress and storm,
haloed 'round your tender form.
Cajoled and eased, I had to yield,
true intentions ne'er revealed.
Defenseless walls that stood no chance,
granted entrance in a trance.
So trust was built with timid stones,
caref'lly laid in dim unknowns.
Bereft foundations lacking brawn,
Always weak, but never gone.

The truth it seems should be revealed.

Emotions ripple, pitch, and swoon,
placid wave to wild monsoon.
In unexpected brazen ways,
boldness set my core ablaze.
With hallowed, blithe, acoustic soul,
broken hopes were mended whole.
And brilliant beams cascaded forth,
east and west and south and north.
Resplendent light that nursed the heart,
conquered by hermetic art.
Though firmly sealed with simple smile,
instinct spoke of futile trial.
Adventures came with whirlwind speed,
quicker than my mind could read.
My intuition counseled care,
warned of woe and nigh despair.
Our heartbeats' timbre purred rapport,
notes confused with something more.
Dilemmas raised, desires shed,
frank confessions left unsaid.

But now, the truth, it struggles, lost.

For hours on end you rest, enthralled,
lambent eyes and dreams recalled.
They flow intensely out like thread,
'round and 'round your dapper head.
Unblemished, pure, and silken shades,
weaving arabesques and braids.
Remember all the dauntless heights,
sparkling glass, and sleepless nights?
Retrieve the softness, sights sublime,
hear the rhythm wrought by time.
Obscure the waste and stem the flow,
find our faces all aglow.
And see our gentle brotherhood,
draped in tales misunderstood.
But challenged thus by chorused thought,
could you suffer what you've sought?
Replete with awe and stark remorse,
could you feel this fervid force?
And so you lie there like a ghost,
blind to that which haunts me most.

And still the truth remains intact.

I'd dodge the spotlights, shirk the chase,
just to bask in your embrace.
But maybe this was meant to be,
Rendered by divine decree.
And who am I to challenge fate,
journey's end, and luck's estate?
To yield, concede, to fold one's hand,
forfeit all that you had planned.
But hist'ries lesson chants a spell,
bidding bittersweet "Farewell."
I wander down our mem'ry lanes,
looking back on what remains.
Retrieving thus my things ignored,
bearing love's lamenting chord.
I smooth out trifles intertwined,
leaving all the rest behind.
And future's vantage sings a muse,
beck'ning with her winsome views.
Forever weary, nevermore,
back to simpler days before.

Vivid machination, coarse inspiration

I used to wonder why artists, writers, and artisans in general took sabbaticals. Now I think I realize why.

There's nothing more incendiary to your imagination like the deprivation of the senses and restriction of action.

Of course, I'm ruling out the muses that ride in on chariots of emotional turmoil. But you can't force those, so why try?

I rendered this image on PhotoShop out of sheer curiosity and fascination.

The influence? The White Tree of Gondor.