What is passion but an unrequited want? A hole as immense as the ocean’s floor. Uncontrollable though one tilt the earth on its axes and swallowing all its remaining seas with one voracious gulp. This the is isthmus of madness where the maelstrom of eternal existence confounds heave and earth to come up with a single reasonable explanation for such loss. How the heart pounds and the boundless ego darts about unleashed like a hungry cat. Her name, his face, that knowing scowl or wink, misapplied at absolutely the right time that one will go to their grave endlessly replaying. Like the mares of Diomedes thirsting for endless passion that can never be found beyond the reality of a single moment tossed unexpectedly forth from ceaseless chaos. Who dares face one’s own Gorgon?
So beauty takes its mutable form in another Venus. Recapitulating her hold over this hopeless hapless soul unable to sound the farthest depths of his own immunity. The brilliance of the Sun congealed in the simple apparition of a perfect creature. Talons burrowing already under a hail of flowing innocent grace. Lampon the shining deferred to Deinos the terrible. The thunder that they and their fellow equines inspire within a heart might tatter it to shreds. Is this actually the work of another? Or just another chapter in the express fate of a Prometheus torn by fresh eagles? To look upon one’s own polished reflection of shielding indifference. As of late a hopelessly unconvincing act.
So far now, I see this folly. A matter of another old fakir’s trick. The irresolution of further action dulled by a cloud of knowing one’s limitation. Impotence of a spirit too unwilling to pull down that longstanding temple of the self. And leave it a pile of disconnected stones no longer able to find old associations in everything new. A massive Byzantine palisade behind which waits a heart hopeful for the eternal in patient sympathy for that single right one. It is the calmness in her eyes that enchants when all the boiling seas have subsided. A pritine beach free of all that needless clutter. No fit words needed here just the cool wind of her loving gaze blowing gently through me. Reassuring me that the star’s path that the years have led me to sail beneath has led me to this right place.
