::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Thursday, February 3, 2011


The moment arises,
as moments sometimes tend to do,
from a place full of beauty,
rich like chocolate truffles,
fragile as a dragonfly's wing...

into a place of general shabbiness,
comfortable enough for our needs,
a perfectly ordinary place,

late, late into the night.

and takes me by surprise, of all things.

"I love you, you know."

and,  almost startled by the revelation I struggle to find words, when I do they spill quietly, jumbled and incoherent --as if stuck together with peanut butter and honey-- from my lips

I tried to say it.

Of course, you already knew, know, my opinion on the subject.  The words were screaming in my mind-- I love you too, I always have, I always will -- and all I could manage was a feeble, mumbled, near to silent whisper,


As if this was something I had known for ages, accepted as fact and even, somehow, expected.

Of course, my eyes spoke volumes that night, although I'm not certain the message was properly transmitted.  My eyes sang of adoration, trust, and at moments awe in the beauty you could create, the passion you carried.

Nothing every came of it.  Words uttered in late night establishments are rarely, if ever, remembered.

But these, these words.   I had waited so long to hear them.  Part of me was furious that you chose to do so at this place.  Most of me was delighted.  They were not uttered as some drunken afterthought, not a ploy to lure me back to your bed, not a game.  It was simple truth.  You did not elaborate.  I didn't push the subject.  Instead I committed the moment to memory, where I could play it over and over in my head.  You took a drink.  Turned you head.  Looked at me.  Smiled for a few seconds.  I love you, you know.  And without waiting for a reaction of any sort, turned your head away and went back to your drink.

Of course, I sat there for what seemed like eternity, perhaps only one minute, if that.  Stumbling.


And that was ok.

Still.  I haven't heard it again.  I don't expect to.  I no longer wonder, but I dream.

Not sure what I like more, so I'll keep both.

The moment arises by surprise, of all things.
"I love you, you know."

startled, I struggle and my words, they. . .. 
they spill quietly, 
jumbled and incoherent from my lips
I tried.  

Of course, you already knew.  
And, just a feeble, mumbled, near to silent whisper,

As if this was long known, accepted, fact--somehow, expected.
My eyes spoke volumes, but the message did not translate.  
They sang of adoration, trust, awe.
The beauty you could create, the passion you carried.
Nothing every came of it.  

But these, these words.   
After such aching.  Furious, yet delighted.  
No sloppy utterance, no ploy, no game.  
Truth without elaboration.  

I sat.  Stumbling.


And that was ok.

Still.  I dream.

1 comment: