Love

Love is ephemeral. It always has been. It exists in small pockets of time, fleeting, in moments of bliss and careless tenderness, like a shimmering evanescent bubble. It exists to rile you up, causing you to soar and stir in its emotional vivacity. Elevated up high by its propulsion, you float back down slowly, like a feather being caressed by the winds of passion, or plummet viciously back to earth like a meteor ablaze.

It’s like trekking the Himalayas, because it's nigh impossible to reach the summit.

I’ve loved and I’ve searched, for a way to be holy, for a reason to be kind, whilst the curves in the road led me to dead ends. I was weak. I was humble. I was human… and so I returned to the head of the path and waited there for a decade to pass as I pondered; What is love or an expression of it? How can I bleed my heart dry on this canvas, this page, without the truth in my grasp? How can my pen move fluidly to the beat and the sounds of my thoughts as my soul dances, how could those illusions ever conjure or how could it ever feel right unless there was in my sights one whom deserved all the emotions pouring out of me..?

Is love truly a selfish thing or Is it the ultimate form of devotion? Is it glorification or is it a yearning, a pining for possession.

I covet and I lust. I itch and pant and ache, but I sit confident, firm and content in my patience. I am stone, immovable, unbreakable, silent and ever observant. I am still.

I discern the complexity, but only an iota of time sweeps by as I ignore the discernment. I do not bind myself to its meanings, and I do not ponder its resolutions. For Love to me is not bound, it is unchained and without form.

It soars freely like a dove of the purest white, floating majestically amongst fields of snow that cake the landscape like dense clouds.

It hovers silently like an owl in the dead of night, turning its head to gaze into my soul, perched atop the trees of proclivity after its already flown past. Its motions cause fruits to fall and roll over to me, enticing me to indulge a nibble.

But I am a stone, unmoving.

I ask myself as I see the fireflies dance by and as the butterflies perch atop my head. Why do I continue to remain here? Little birds dancing on my shoulder chirp in my ear. They whisper soft nothings to me. I can not understand their language but I can understand the tone of their voice and it evokes love, the love that will undo my tether to this realm of solace.

They tell me to get up, they tell me to move. Yet this cocoon is plush. It is safe. It is secure. I wait here with all I’ve gathered, to proffer all of my adulation, for the one who waits for me in the mirage of my mind's eye, in awe of its beauty and splendor. I write this for you who seems out of my grasp and yet so close. I’ve felt your presence my whole life, an illusion.

As I think about you, a black cat pounces out at me. The dawn breaks free and over takes the night. The kitten scratches, it bites, the blood runs down my fingertips and I feel pain, but the softness of its fur and the innocence of the eyes caress my empathy. I would not care if I was bled dry, I would still sit here patiently. The object of my affection tearing me apart, razing me to the ground, leaving me demolished and destitute, yet I still gaze into the prepossessing eyes of love and feel no emotion but pure bliss.

To be killed by my own emotion, to be vulnerable to the blade and offer my neck without any hesitation. To be everything and more, until I have nothing left to give and still yearn to sacrifice myself. Until there is nothing left of me but only you, you who are so far away.

You, who exist only as an idea. I’ve been dreaming about you for so many years and I can see your smile in my most lucid visions. A warm embrace, a tender smile, an attentive disposition, I dream about talking to you without any measure of time.

The seconds drip by, but the moments are timeless. Night and days would pass, just like the years I’ve waited here.

I am but a stone, but if I could be selfish, I would ask… Why do you take so long? Where have you been all this time? But I dare not ask such questions. I know in my heart, I would never dare to be so… obtuse. A stone firmly set in its place, finally able to move, set free.

I can not imagine what you would look like. Your appearance holds little sway. My patience is like a boulder of weight I can not fathom. A formless being in a world of chaos, I wait in place, without movement, without thought, without expression.