My Singularity

I haven't just written, pointlessly and aimlessly in a long time. My humble poetry is tailored towards very specific emotions that I feel, but there is so much more, so many more thoughts, and feelings and images that are just churning through the universe that I have in my mind.

But I realize as I sit here and think, that it is all in vain, I am not a deep person, because my depth, my waking moments are defined by a singularity. This singularity; my femme fatale if you will, defines my every action, emotion, my faith, my gait, and even these words. Every last detail of my life, is an extension of her. My thoughts cannot drift too far, before they return to this ever expanding beginning, my Big Bang, the inspiration to the consciousness that exists inside of me.

This singularity, my point of complexity, is effeminate. Why? Because, as a man, the greatest paradox in my world, is a woman. And hence, what better way to define, this strangely paradoxical, ever evolving, mother of the labyrinth of my illumination. Her face has changed throughout time, but her essence, has not.

I have gone a full circle, as it is my way. I set out to write aimlessly, and instead, wrote specifically. My heart, and this page, will always know the name of this Singularity. Scribbled into the sinew of my soul in the matter of moments that I first embraced her presence. I am grateful for this muse who defines me, because I have spent my lifetime, writing, and searching, to put a name and a face to her. And now, that I accept her timelessness, I struggle, waiting for this universe to once again contract and rush back into her, that she, My Afflatus, who has driven me through so much of my life, learns through my search, Her self.

This duality within me, is the principle of my beliefs. I believe that we, who are born and die alone, we spend our entire lives, building relationships and importance in trivialities, to try to cheat this foreboding inevitability of loneliness. It is a need to exist, and have continuity beyond the frailty of our lives that is the cause for this inspiration.

I believe, that our consciousness is born in two halves that are mismatched for this very reason. A conflict that is necessary so that we question ourselves, and our surroundings. For if we were born whole, love would have been unnecessary, and all the works of inspiration that defines mankind, born from stone, ink or music, from the Taj Mahal, to the Mona Lisa, from Shakespeare's 116th sonnet to Beethoven's 9th symphony, would never have been possible.

It is when we conclude this search, to love inspiration, and inspire in someone the same fervency, that we live our lives meaningfully. It is said that we must love ourselves before we love others, that is to me utter narcissistic hogwash. We can never understand the reason of our own existence. It is impossible. Our mind cannot wrap itself around itself, but it can wholly embrace, and be consumed by another. It is there that it is complete, in that embrace, shared between two consciousnesses, that understanding is realized.

The answer to my existence is not in some higher power. It is within me, it is in her. It is in the knowledge that I am here to love, and inspire and be inspired. It is in these words, it is in the copulation of the emptiness of my singularity with the substance of her universe, in her illumination, I will realize my life.

A Reflection of Love

Love is a curious thing. It is something that mesmerises me. It is something that I think about, I yearn for, something that I do not feel is abundant enough in the world. It is to me, the most beautiful thing in the world, for it can make you forget yourself, in such happiness that all things seem trivial, and it can plunge you in such sadness, that all things seem far too great to bear.

I for one do not believe that the capacity to love, is uniquely human. It exists in all things, if you only choose to look for it. It is as much in the rain that waters the flowers, as it is in the mother that weans her child, as much in the breeze that rustles leaves, as it is in the gentle kisses in lovers' smiles. It is every where around us.

In all its grand splender, Love is the quintessential oxymoron, turning fools into poets, and making paupers feel like wealthy men, just as it makes wise men act foolish, and wealthy men revel in the poverty of her absence. It brings out the best in some men, carrying them to heights they could never have even imagined on their own, and elicits the worst in other men, driving them to heinous crimes their minds cannot comprehend.

Love, a romantic's best friend, the ink of a poet's pen, she evades all that seek her, They that love love, often find themselves alienated from her. An endless search, of the most obvious glaring truth. That is what love is.

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I didn't have the energy to think of rhyme, but love will always intrigue me, and i will never tire of writing of it. In all my sadness, i draw strength that i still have the will to love and the capacity to exercise. And that, No one, can ever take from me.

I Write...

I Write...

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I Write To Remember My Joy,

That Those Moments,

Will Remain Eternal,

I Write So These Words,

Dress My Wounds,

And Make the Pain Bearable,

I Write To Remind Myself of Love,

For those Times,

When Its Warm Comfort is Scarce,

I Write to Appreciate Beauty,

To keep In my Life,

Its Grasp,

I Write to Feel Freedom,

That In this Script,

It Can Dance,

I Write To Confess my Sins,

That I Might Meet,

Forgiveness' Glance,

I Write so Someone Out there,

Can Take Comfort,

That They are Not Alone,

I Write So She Knows I'm Thinking Of her,

When I Can't Pick up the Phone,

I Write So You Might Know Me,

When My Lips Have No Adage,

I Write to Leave a Piece of Myself,

For When My Book,

Reaches Its Last Page...

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Come Home...

Come Home...

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He asks if She'd Return,

Her gentle Lips Part with Maybe,

I still have to decide, She offers,

It is not that Easy to be Free,

As the Door Shuts Behind Her,

The Soft Click returns Reality,

A Jarring Reminder Some Dreams,

May Never be More than Fantasy,

His Heart Slowly Crumbles,

As it Beats Heavy, Against His Chest,

He Sinks into his Chair,

He Sleeps, but is Unable to Rest,

His Guitar Rings Blue,

As This Silence, He tries to Bend,

He turns To these Pages,

And Bleeds Slowly thru His Pen,

Every Thought Drifts to Her,

Heaven's First Perfection,

Is it Providence To Befriend Angels,

Or Cruel Fate that Belies this Elation,

The Memory of her Smile Steadies Him,

The Light in her Eyes, Glowing Warm,

Engraving Hope, in His Faithless Heart,

That She Might One day, Come Home...

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Love is...

Love Is...
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Love,
It is,
The Moon,
That rises on a Starless Night,

It is,
The song sung
Beneath the Window of Love's First Sight,

It is,
The Whisper of a Breeze,
On a Summer Noon,

It is,
The Warm Fingers of a Fire,
In the Winter's Cold Gloom,

It is,
The Ray of Sunshine,
That Breaks Dark Clouds,
And Colours the Rainbow,

It is,
The Dew,
That Caresses Spring's First Rose,

Love,
It is you,
It is me,
It is the Descant That is Us...

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This is a poem, I do not feel is complete. There are still a good many things in the world that exemplify Love to me, and I hope to share them with you here.

Faithless

Faithless

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The Drowning Dream,

Of Sleepless Nights,

Shattered Smiles,

Waiting New Morn's Light,

Wavering Whispers,

Hailing Helios,

To Ferry to His Window,

A Brilliant dawn,

To Save Her Vestments,

From Pools of Hope, Now Shallow,

Faith Has Since Departed,

Of Love,

Mirroring His Ardour,

His Poverty Born Not,

Of Want Of Money or Power,

A Poor Man, Heart Shorn,

Love's Cupboard Bare,

Nursing Cracked Lips,

Dried in this Drought of Despair,

He Steps into the Rain,

To hide the World, From His Tears,

A Shell,

Hollowed and Faithless,

Tainted,

With Pagan Prayers...

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Rain

Rain....

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Come Hither Rain,

Firmament's Loving Tears,

In Thy Grace, Wash away,

This Foolish Man's Fears,

Flood This Heart,

A Barren Landscape, Rived,

Ferry Back Seeded Sands,

Replant a Meadow of Life,

Reverent, Behind this Window,

Gazing at your Poignant Descent,

I implore Thee, Heaven's Gift,

Bathe Me With Love's Consent...

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Simple Wish

Simple Wish

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I speak,

Yet No words Form,

Illusions Consume my World,

As Ill Fate Conforms,

Fate that Love Begot,

Of Fate that Life Forgot,

Two minds of Single heart,

Weighing Measure Of Love,

Or Of Practical Depart,

I beseech Thee, O Providence,

Smile in my Favour,

That I Might Reminisce,

In her Smile's Fervour,

The Glow Divine of Her Eyes,

Bequeath me Soon,

That I may Gratefully Thank,

The Bequest of this Boon...

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Silence

Silence

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The Silence Deafens,

His eyes Search in Vain,

He Feebly Voices his Appeal,

For Someone To Ferret His pain,

The Void in His Chest Resounds,

As in this Empty Room He Sits,

Strapped in an Electric Chair,

Waiting for Someone to To flip the Switch,

The Silence remains Haunting,

Ripping His Mind's fragile Seam,

His Fears dance in the Shadows,

Circling, Stalking and Mocking Him,

Solace, He has long forgotten,

A Memory, Distant, Tattered And Faded,

Only this Silence remains Enveloping,

A Rhythm, Lonely, Twisted and Jaded......

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Lucinda

Lucinda

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Draw Near,

Lady Lucinda,

Smile Upon Your Vassal,

That Gratefully I may Pay Homage,

For tenement,

In Your Heart's Castle,

Dip Your Hands,

In my Tribute,

In This Chalice,

I bring Love's Laughter,

Draw Your Fingers Closer,

If You Would Cup this Water,

These Tears,

A Simple Gift,

Gathered of this Loving Heart,

Hold them with Care,

Dear Lucinda,

As from this Piece of Myself,

I Part.....

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