Friday, December 18, 2009

The Flickering Flame

Dear reader,
Please click here first and allow this song 
to wash over you as you read this, 
as I did when I wrote it:  I don't love you

When you go, 
Would you even turn to say,
I don't love you, 
Like I did,
 The familiar strains of a moving guitar melody and gut-wrenching vocals flow through my veins and  it empowers, saddens and invigorates.  What a paradox.  The finality of loss is brought into sharp relief by a renewed hope for the future.  The sheer unexpectedness of what tomorrow might bring... the opportunity to create a new outcome... burns like a candle in the darkened window of my heart.  Confidently it brightens and keeps the shadows at bay, but occasionally a slip, a twitch of a curtain, and a cold familiar draft threatens to extinguish the promise of the flame.

Well when you go, 
Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay,
And maybe when you get back,
I'll be off to find another way...

As my gaze fixes upon the cold blue heart of the flame, black and white images move across the theatre of my mind.  Irony.  It replays a scenario that resides in the grey areas of human frailty.  Flickering shadows play upon the features of a soulful face.  Large and red rimmed eyes swollen from hours of sobbing... and outstretched hands with fists closed tight from the strain of trying to keep all the emotions at bay... express more than words possibly could in explanation or justification of the events about to unfold. 

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading,
So sick and tired of all the needless beating,
But baby when they knock you down and out,
It's where you oughta stay.

I wish I had the vocabulary, the insight, and the talent... to have relayed my thoughts and questions well enough to have been understood from the first instance, without them having become tarnished by the human condition.  At each and every moment when that flame guttered out, and I was left cold and alone with only those poignant questions to keep me company, the one person who might have understood and answered them... stood out on the street, mingling with the myriad, and faded beyond the darkened window.  And so the candle stood, dark... until with the light of the morning came the only reliable relief, and the view through the window wiped clean for another day and another play.

And after all this time that you still owe,
You're still a good-for-nothing I don't know,
So take your gloves and get out,
Better get out while you can...

Week after week, the scenes in front of that night-time window would replay with clockwork regularity.  And the recluse behind the window, the once-owner of that flame, grew to regard it all as a cruel and painful joke; a long distant memory of happier days.

Then with time and with nothing but the darkness to consider... the only sensible thing to do was move away from the view and maybe, find a way to rekindle the light.  Such effort did it take to grope for the matches, that I stumbled in the dark, and fell... far and hard.  And although there was pain, there was also endorphins and euphoria.  And for that I will always be grateful, for it suffused me once again with warmth, and the knowledge of things material and immaterial, that I knew I deserved.

So fix your eyes and get up,
better get up,
while you can...

Then finally, the matches were sought.  The candle was lit.  And the flame began burning anew... illuminating an altogether different scene.  One of endless possibilities and hope for tomorrow.  So upon the morrow, and the morrow after that....

I don't love you like I loved you yesterday...

... I will seek once more, that same person who once stood on the other side of the window, and hope to meet his eyes to recognise love of a different kind - a mutual understanding of a love that gives, rather than takes... and that makes us both better people than we were before.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

Just us and Eric Benet

Here I sit in the dark, with the feeble moonlight barely penetrating the gloom of the living room. The light of my beloved mac is the only glow within, illuminating my drawn and exhausted visage, giving me the look of one haunted. Maybe I am.

Haunted by desires unfulfilled and memories of happier days. Yearning that things could have remained as they were and still hoping that the harshness of reality will take another step back and leave me in peace. In relative peace.

For escapism can no longer be a lasting release. If I am truthful to myself, it has not been for years. Once that barrier of denial was broken it meant that I have been forever forced to be in a state of duality... aware of more than I have been before, and making conscious choices because it has been the only way to be. Taking responsibility for all my actions.

Snatches of a sexy Eric Benet tune are filtering through to my consciousness as I type, and it makes me sad. It reminds me of the lies we tell ourselves to get through difficult days, in vain, hoping to emerge unscathed... only to fail.

A choice is looming on the horizon. A question mark hangs in the air. An answer, the only obvious answer, is slamming against my consciousness, reminding me of its presence. Annoying, unrelenting and unforgiving.

I am no longer clear about my reasons for resisting its presence. But my body is weak with exhaustion and my mental state overburdened by a fully charged day - the incredible high of being on the go now dragged into balance by a melancholy brought on by the weekly Friday 'triggers' that I have come to expect and dread, which I no longer have the strength to attempt to influence positive change upon.

But acknowledgment. Truly, it is out of my control... yet somewhere along the way, 'acceptance of the things I can't change' has come to equate 'things that I have failed to foresee.' When did I form that belief? And in an ironic twist, I hate that I did not see it rearing its ugly head.

But it's okay. I am okay, and everything will be fine. Tomorrow is another day and once sleep claims me, my troubles will fade away again like so much dew on a tropical morning. The sun rising with renewed vigour, as will I.

Until then though, it's just us... and Eric Benet.