There was a quarter moon hanging low in the sky last night. My thoughts and my heart were indicative of the time and the view, which was pretty and sad at the same time.
I am amazed at the world’s beauty and how the prettiness of a low-hanging moon appears to be a gift, like a sight for sore eyes, and a present to remind me that nothing is so ugly or so desparate.
The moon and the seasons are not an enemy, only changing, and they are only reminders that we need to notice the good things that life can show us.
The yellowish part of the moon had been spun upside down and the rest was the upper part, which was more like a shadowy outline of the heavenly body.
Beautiful.
At the same time, I found myself in another one of my emotional quandaries.
This happens enough. I am sure.
Or maybe this happens all too often. I am sure of this as well.
but then again and after all; I am human.
Or, so I hope.
I was driving, which is a good time for me to vent of hear music and scream or if the needs be, I can cry or laugh or feel all the emotions that run the gamut between joy and pain.
I was making my way from an old familiar spot and so, the view of the sky during my late night drive was enough to make me consider my heartfelt inaccuracies. I stress the word “inaccuracy” because thoughts and ideas are not always true or true enough; thoughts and ideas and feelings are often fiction. And if at all possible, much of my inaccuracies are sentiments and memories that I wish to let go or set free.
I go back to Jim Carroll’s words, “I just want to be pure.”
Yes, sir.
I just want to be pure.
But how?
So many of my toxic traits and impurities are weed-like in the sense that they kill me dreams at the root.
I am certainly a romantic.
I am definitely sexual by nature. I am a dreamer.
I am hopeful and hopeless and I am mad as in crazy
I am like a man who is either fit to be tied or fit to be placed in restraints.
I am.
Or in all truthfulness; maybe I am more normal than my ideas allow me to believe.
I see nothing wrong with the objects of desire.
I see nothing wrong with the mutual ambiance and the foreplay moments which build the build-up to an explosion. insurmountable need. And yes, my needs are insurmountable, worse than a virgin tugging for his first time between the legs of a pretty girl.
However, and to be fair –
I do not want a pretty girl because they are otherwise common or casual and you?
You are far beyond all these things.
Nothing about you is common.
Nothing about you is asual.
And in my best estimation, even Heaven bows to you like a Goddess who softens the heart of demons and makes them change.
I see nothing wrong with the consensual forms of willingness to please the mind body and soul and more, I see nothing wrong with the experiments or the new transactions designed to make us reach to a new level.
I say this because in this life and the next, I do not believe in the flat or plateaus of love.
No . . .
Quite the opposite.
In fact, I understand the value and sensual connection of beautiful companionship.
I understand the need for lovers to be friends as well. However, and ongoing, I refuse to believe in the stalling natures of passion and to me; I see this as a threat. I see the complacency of lustless love as a subtle form of rejection.
This is true to me because to me, no two bodies or souls or two people who desire love should ever become complacent or so comfortable that there is no “next level.”
I always want more.
I want this without apology
And sure.
I know.
My heart beats too loud and I say too much .
I get this.
I speak too often.
Yet –
At the same time, I am unapologetic, and so I speak now because I will never “hold my peace.”
Ah, and peace.
Peace is absorbed and qualified and quantified and therefore; peace is calculated and measured because peace came to us at a cost. And in my case; my peace almost cost me my life.
But for now . . .
Please.
Let the lights go down and let the candles flicker.
Let the shadows who copy the mold of our bodies be jealous of our embrace.
Let the world become distant.
Let the sky become the watcher and the learner and let the world see us in this light.
Let this be the spark, like an Exodus or the departure from bondage and yes, please . . .
please let this be our genesis and the origin and the creation and the new beginning of a brand new world.
My love is my love.
My body is my body.
My flaws are my flaws.
And yes, my misshaped distortions in my head and the anarchy and my misshapen ideas and my crazy mistakes are all alive and well and thus; I am as real as they come.
I am crazy.
I am crazier than the maddest of them all.
I am wild and I am young too.
I am insane and at my sanest possible level; I am this.
I am young in more ways than my age can define me,
I am younger than before my youth tricked me with the lies from status whores and false bravado.
I am as flawed and as imperfect and as raw as the first diamond ever found in the rough.
But I am me and thus; I am pure in this nature only.
I am this –
on my knees, pleading and praying and putting one step in front of the other.
I am pleading with an upside down, quarter moon that hovered in the sky last night.
I am as hopeful and wishful and wanting as any heartfelt romantic and more . . .
I am thirsty.
I am hungry and equally insatiable and no, nothing can satisfy my thirst or my hunger.
Just you . . .
No fantasy comes close to the reality or the fact that there is only one truth.
There is only one life and despite what you may see or regardless of what you might assume; loving you is easy.
Loving you is the greatest feeling of any emotion.
Yet, as easy as this is, I am afraid.
And though I am afraid, I dare the odds and die in ways.
Nothing is more brave than it is to love.
It is the world around me and the mind and the thoughts and the confused accusations and of course; it is me
It is my ideas that range from moderate to wild assumptions of rejection; and next, I lose to the interaction between me and my fears. I lose to the insecure worries that suffocate my soul
I am only small and afraid.
No matter how large I am or appear.
My strength is more superficial than deep.
But I?
I am more.
I am stronger than Samson and more than anything; I am equally a part of my flaws.
Therefore, I am like Solomon, back when he was the third and final King of Israel’s Golden Age.
And while said to be unmatched by wisdom and wealth, Solomon’s downfall was his excess to disobedience and despite his genius and brilliance; the fact remains that Solomon was his own downfall.
I am this too.
But at least I am this.
At least I am me.
Perhaps crazy.
Perhaps sensitive.
Perhaps insane.
But whatever I am, at least I am this; openly and willingly free to expose my chest as I say this:
I love you.
At least I stand before you as “the man I am.”
I am this and never again; not now or ever will I act as if I am portraying myself as someone else.
And who am I?
I am your biggest fan.
My love. . .
No one wants you more or sees you more clearly.
No one loves your curves, your swerves. your hips, your lips, and your eyes more than me.
You are the embodiment of beauty.
You are a figure that makes Heaven and the Angels envious.
You are the object and the presence and the flavor of desire.
It is you.
Always you.
You are the sensual nature of love and lust and sin and yes, the list goes on.
I am so small and so weak and yet, let the world cross you.
Let the enemies cross your gates or impose upon your will.
Let this happen and my gentleness will escape me as I become the opposite,
And so, even David and Goliath would weaken next to me as they ran off in fear of my response.
I would burn the world down and toast marhsmellows on the waste for you
Am I a good person?
Am I a good man?
I am me.
And yes, I have details and sins and secrets that outnumber the skeletons which I hide in my closet.
But out of all things I have; I only have this kind of love for you.
Faults and flaws and ugly truths and all –
All I want is the impossibilities to become subtle and I . . .
I want to be like the sands at the beach, warm to the touch beneath my feet, and unburdening my footsteps with a hopeful idea that allows every step to be one step closer to you.
If I am to be alone, then I am to be alone.
But at least, if anything; at least I will be true to my truth.
And my truth is this –
There is only one girl
One love
One lust and one life
And my life is now and of course.
I am yours
That is . . .
If you will have me
And how will you have me?
You can have me in any way you choose
Wife or enemy
Lover or distant
I am here for all, none, or either
But the decision is up to you
You woder though
How great is my love?
If it helps you . . .
My love is greater than endless
and longer than forever.
From now until the hour of my death
so help me God ~
This is all for you
my love
