Life is a combination of the sad and the elated. All the wonderful things like little sail boats far off on the horizon of the tawny lake circling in playful jest. Far gone from reach. How sad and beautiful to know that you knew those wonderful times even if they are beyond reach now. I met her and she was beautiful in a way that can only falter in the attempt to describe it. I knew her through her records which were like anthems to the life that I wished for and attempted to deserve to own. She had seen my distress before the theater unbeknown to me and had an usher come out to lead me to a compliment of a ticket at the box office. The reality of that now distant event haunts me still. Eccentric in a way that made me want her even more in the eyes of so many other women that I could too easily have ended up leaving behind without a second chance. That was a sin that I pay for even still. If only I would have known that my mother was only a woman I might have been able to accept that all those other failed romantics past by were in no way worse. Life lived long does that you know.
Unable to answer that fatal question of what did that woman of the moment want anyhow? Now the simple answer too many years later! For better or worse, simply me. If you are a man you have to give the woman you are with a little time to become that goddess that you have always wished for. But then, these days, who has the time? Only old stale dreams missing the more significant pieces of what and why now missing could answer that meme. I wonder some days if some of them remember me without the sting of a sharp curse on their lips? That is if any recollect me at all? Some are dead. And some no doubt still wish me so if I bubble past the tar of present day. The search for that impossible goddess being the most unforgivable transgression along with an unfailing ability to always forgive my own misdeeds. Who am I really? Someone who fooled himself that he had the ability to care.
So now I sit here alone comfortable in a lounge that was made by others for me to inherit. I still haven’t found my one true goddess though she has since found so many, many others. The penalty afforded to those who did not continue to try hard enough. A comfortable prison of self-assurance and confidence that all possibilities were thoroughly explored. My mother’s final invocation of, “I wish you would find some one!“, repeated in the endless chorus of quiet times like these. And now listening to the same old silence creeping slowly around nearby corners reaching for me, I must say that I wish that very same thing.