Complete

What makes a person whole?
Something deep within the quiet of the soul?
Who can make this person a complete being?
Can anyone?
Are any answers good enough?
I think... my answers have some meaning, but fail now and then
I am a frail, flawed human man.
I love completely yet fear its loss... I want no condition
And yet,
I hurt... the definition of expectation
The hurt comes and goes... ideally,
I am more on the other side, near the rest of the shade of trees
pragmatically, I drift near such a perfect shore
The water that sometimes does not know it has been broken
By the rock...
Can anyone truly be complete in the face of their struggles?
Do we actually have the wisdom?
We all need the spark, the light of the soul...
We cannot do it alone
The idea does not make me whole... no, not at all.
She and the idea are one.
But, I think I can rest for awhile, near the edge of a
Midnight sea under the shade of trees overlooking
A perfect shore.

Ideally, of course :) But we don't live in an ideal world... still, I do so because it is the right thing... it has always been so... I can live with that... of course, the raw truth of it is that I have always lived with it. My idea and the person are one, so I always live with it, no matter where they go, or have gone, or what road I travel... I remember for both of us, for all of us... that way, the universe remembers and loves... and that, well... is worth living with :)

C.

This Long Road

I have rarely referenced my blog title... it has been referenced in another post on another blog. It is not that I am truly referencing that entry she wrote, but well, thinking about my long road recently, and the future I face and am facing. The days slip by, and what was is further removed, and more and more I perhaps seem weaker and weaker on the days that just hurt, and not even days, just odd, simple moments of... 'huh, wow, I didn't think of that' like today when I wandered into the store where I bought a ring for her, well, the ring I guess. Sometimes, I wake up and think I should tell her something neat or odd or dorky and reach for the phone... instead, I let it sit because I must, what I want to say often waits and I sometimes forget... the thing is I am her truest friend (and mine as well, no matter what has happened, some great hopes are worth clinging to, this is one :) and I feel a little uncomfortable, nervous, and awkward as if I am cutting into her time. She never says it, but I think I sometimes feel it... not like when we had to (and sometimes I had to) pry each other off the phone... now, it's me... go figure.

I think of the changes of the last couple of weeks... I know I have gone from sounding desperate (most of the time) to resigned to accepting, though the acceptance still breaks my heart more than I would like. I wish that part could change. I know that she has changed, is changing, and this is all well... I have as well. At first, I thought it was regression (and some of it might have been, perhaps even understandably so) but now, I understand so much more about the nature of love and even my own heart. Indeed, I can say I love her even more than ever now, irony of ironies. My love, while still romantic (and that would be hard to change about my nature, and I would sooner not love than lose that part of me) is the culmination of what I always wanted it to be... a higher, deeper love that can transcend the pain, the kind of love that inspires and has inspired, especially from some of my writings of the past week. For that part, I am eternally grateful. When I see her next, it would be my fondest wish for her to see this light she helped create and know what her love and my love has done for me. We have argued about taking each other back, so to speak (me wanting and her against it of course) but I realize it is false to ask in the first place. To go back to how it was is to deny the evolution of the spirit. But to move forward together, if that were possible somewhere along this long road, means taking what was so good about our lives before and uniting it with the spirit of what we have learned and what lay ahead... Perhaps that is too idealistic and naive... well, what kind of hopeless romantic would I be if I weren't idealistic? :)

In all this, I know she understands the honor in my heart I have for her and how she has honored me by simply enriching my life. Her mere presence enriches me. Maybe I am a foolish throwback to another time, but I think love, when it is honored so, can never escape a person. It is a blessing that helps calm me even in my sorrow as I continue to face this long road.

C.

Her Perfect Shore

'Her Perfect Shore'

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

A dream... a gift from happier times
Landscapes form in the hopes of fantastic days
Life... enfolded in joy.
Enraptured thoughts, blissful
Yet so unaware.

My hope rests amid her calm embrace...

A memory... forged when the world was new
Desire manifests in the instant before a kiss
Comfort... tangible and real.
Indelible wonder, unending
Yet so fragile.

My spirit understands her passionate soul...

A place... a refuge created within the hearts of stars
Affection revealed in tender accord
Peace... a yearning complete.
Gentle movements, heavenly
Yet so unaware.

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

C.

The Words and Time

I am still working on finally compiling and extending my many essays and poems into actual book form. Whether it will see the light of day is certainly up for debate, but is what I need at the moment to keep going. It has been difficult to take my own advice in writing, but I try, and indeed oft times try too hard, hope too much. I think way too much, but as anyone who has read my work, you know I am a true thinker... it's part of me.

The words, my word and the words I write are so much part of me I cannot contain it... even if no one else truly understands. I given so much to the words, to understanding them, to living them. I wonder what they have given back to me...

C.

The Gulf Betwixt Our Hearts... For Now

Even while compiling my series of blog posts/essays in order to deaden some of what I lost, in order to feel whole again... and just to write because I need to, my mind and heart drifts, whether I want it to or not. She tells me she feels the same about me, with one unique difference, one that still hurts, and I know it hurts her. It has created a gulf in my heart for now, and has strained my affection for her, and fear it will strain our friendship. I know that she does not want to lose that, and does not feel she has (and for my part, I do not want that either). Still, I think we are both conflicted, though not in the ways she might guess. She loves us both, but not in the same ways, not with the same heart, but the mind and heart have difficulty reconciling some of the little details. Of course, this is only what I can see, and I admit with a little blinders as well. On the other hand, she is my best friend regardless, and I am concerned for her, even if it might be misplaced and perhaps colored by my love for her. I do want the best, truly I do... right now, I know I am not the best for her... the thing is, I once was, and it digs at a man, into the core of their being, especially considering how close we were/are. It is possible I am just wallowing in the mire, the scorned lover, etc... but I am also her dearest friend, though I haven't been much of one lately... if one can understand, but it still pains me that I haven't been the friend I should, especially since all she wants is to be the friend she was and will always be to me. Our bond is unique in many ways, and deeply personal which is why I am so deeply moved. That part I cannot change for now. What I can do is ease her burden, and heal what I can and promise that we will be what we can when we see each other next.

C.

Truth

Truth is an ugly and beautiful thing... we seek it, endeavour for it, hide from it, and conceal it. All in the name of truth at times. That is the truth of what I have endured the past few weeks, and the truth of what I have known for over a year, and what seems longer. Truth is a metaphor of our lives, and has become our lives... it shapes us, and can destroy us. Truth, to me, is not necessarily honesty... one can be honest and still conceal the truth, especially if it does a greater good. Still, I wonder about such karma in that accord. I wonder about myself in that accord. What has it done for me, aside from make me write more, feel like the person I was what seems so long a go... what good can it do for me in the future?

The truth is... I only knew what was true in her, and though the answers may forever be concealed in me, and in her, I still know it to be true.

C.

What seems a lifetime ago...

Writing has always left an indelible mark upon my soul, and upon the souls of others, though I think I have forgotten for a time just what writing does for me and has done. To that end, I am going to take a lot of the essays I have written and re-write them and add a few more, and compile them, adding them with some poems and create... something. It's time. I have wasted my time and talent for far too long. Even if I fail and it is not well received... I can finally say I wrote my book (aside from gaming supplements for LARPS). This is something that has lain dormant for so long, and awaits at the end of this long road, hoping I would notice. I did not see it for so long, but the thoughts still percolate in the back of my mind, in the breadth of my soul. I think I would be doing myself a disservice if I did not enhance and expound upon my (for now) disjointed philosophical extants. Further, I would be doing a disservice to those (in particular one) who has shared that philosophy with me and knows a little of what I know about the truth of understanding the universe at large.

So... let's see if I have it in me.

C.