This is Love

“This is love. This is our movement, and our journey.” As these words escaped her lips, they reverberated through the air and by the time they reached my cerebrum I could only ponder why anyone would stake everything on one throw of the dice, one hand of cards; one..yet maybe it was just one word. Love. That had to be it. This stable idea seemed to be blatantly clear to her; like an inside joke that I had been left out on. For her, that was the alpha and the omega. There was no past, no future, there is only the present. Four letters spun together into a cognitive thought, an infinitesimal insignificance at first glance, but nothing could ever mean more. Yet, how a movement, I dared to ask. She smiled wide, and as her lips parted, she offered that this is our movement as a culture, as a people, as…as something more than just two individuals. In the chorus of beating hearts and full breaths that make up this planet, ours could beat and breathe just a bit different. This is the movement to be heard, to stand up and proclaim to anyone within earshot, “Here I am! I am everything I’ll ever need to be!” Empowered, confident, and determined; never have I felt these in such enthralling proportions before this moment. This isn’t just an idea though; this is the beat and tempo of our lives, the timbre of our thoughts and the melody in our hearts. It is the breath of air to ward off the aches in lungs after an underwater swim, the proverbial light in the absolution of the tunnel, the only thing…that really matters. I learned to live that day, seemingly for the first time ever. We laugh, we cry, and we sing. And we love. “This is love. This is our movement, and our journey.”

Litter-ature (Sonnet)

They clutter the shelves, old best friends
Familiar, once my enamored, yet no more.
As I’d race through them, they all became simply wizened lore.
I found that as each story told itself until its ends,
I was fascinated. And each chapter laid to rest portends
A new rise. I’ve read them all and find myself longing for something new to adore
A fresh text, the likes of which I won’t abhor.
I thirst for that epitome of literature, the sort that transcends.
Yet for of all the quests I’ve read, I’m lost to find...but wait. What’s this?
An intact tome, unquestioning and prepared to captivate.
I would sit and unfold my latest obsession.
As I pour into the text, eccentric bliss.
First page, chart a course and begin to navigate,
For my devotion to words is the only thing lying beyond my comprehension.

Just Not Yet

There are many instances in my day in which I seek to contact the person I’m so [unfortunately] endeared to. Our preferred medium is of course the infamous text message and provides a simple and quick vessel to send a quick heart, a short enamored phrase, or an admiring lyric; just to show my affection, and even if to reaffirm my existence to her. Whereupon I have to put her name into the Address box, I quickly thumb “5” twice, as my muscle memory is wont to do. Therein lies the humor though, in that pressing 5 brings up the “J’s” contacts, and “K’s” thereafter. J-K—jk. In the vernacular of our generation’s texting vocabulary, “jk” means “just kidding,” or as if to say, “I’m simply joking.” Sure, it may seem a trivial coincidence but I get the impression the Fates seek to mock me in the endeavors of my overzealous heart.

I’ve been standing at this crossroads for longer than I’d care to remind myself. Every time I venture down what is seemingly the correct and clear path I’m assaulted with the callous facts. The truth is certainly not my ally in this uphill trudge; fantasy and hope are wearing thin. Now, I’m certainly aware that there have been many before me that have been more enamored than I, felt deeper, and been stronger and have had their connections severed just as easily; thereafter going on to find solace in another’s arms. Yet as I mature in every other way possible, it seems that my other aspects are only just now reaching the same ground that my ethereal heart has almost always occupied. This…ideal, this goal…isn’t just a phase or an infatuation to grow out of, it’s everything that I am and want to be. I’ll concede that I may be too far away from anything concrete to pursue the one thing that I truly want; but I live in constant fear that if I was to abandon this for that, I would only be met with such a denial: exceeding any such reaction I’d known before. I would truly have nothing at that juncture, and though I seek to deny it with every fiber of my being, maybe clinging to this fantasy for now is better than trying to act on the possibility of unrequited feelings. As unfortunate as it persists, living without a hope pertaining to these aspects will leave me less disappointed in their failure to reach fruition.

We should all hope though, hope is what keeps us alive and having the motivation to pursue what matters most, even if it is only significant unto ourselves. Hope is quite the gamble, if it pays off you experience joys greater than any you’d imagine otherwise, but the possibility of turning into a decrepit shell of a person can nearly exceed the potential payoffs and as such is an extremely hard bet. There’s no bluff or royal flush that can win this pot unfortunately; no poker face stoic enough to outlast, and no luck of the draw with odds high enough to be certain of a huge payout. Yet we’ll gamble still, because in all honesty, none of us are good poker players. We’ve never been much of gamblers, we journeymen of the heart. As Edison’s work with the light bulb resulted in seemingly failures, he persisted, “I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.” In the same spirit I believe that not giving up, and therein proving your determination is testament enough to achieve anything, even in the face of assured failure. I haven’t failed yet, I’ve just found 709 days worth of endeavors that haven’t worked yet.