How long and unexpected this whirlwind path has revealed itself to be,
transcending and permeating throughout my every fiber.
How strange, how so simple an act of watching
the evocative portrayal of an epic love story,
can resonate so profoundly with one’s core.

Without warning, it unleashes deep-seated, raw emotions -
long buried within, sooner forgotten –
awakening an abyss of sorrow, regret, unbridled passion and longing for
that unconditional, selfless, pure love, which once was
so many lifetimes ago,
leaving behind melancholy, and a life-altering sense of loss –
loss of soul.
A piece
given willingly an eternity ago
to one’s other half –
without question –
entrusted like a precious treasure equal in measure and worth to that
indescribable love and bliss, which was so generously bestowed
in return, and so carelessly and ignorantly
tossed aside: what folly!

So insidiously does this unforgiving, intangible, and boundless
maelstrom of emotions and memories of love lost
course it way through one’s blood,
weaving an unforgiving trail of remorse, inability to forget, let go,
and accept one’s naive and misguided foibles of youth –
those impulsive and reckless errors in judgment –
which blindly led one down the alternate path
of least resistance.

Resentment and bitterness build, fueled by
an inability to accept why such splendor –
such perfectly symbiotic love -
would be granted to one so young –
one incapable of grasping the sheer significance of this sacred gift
and never letting it go –
and relegating the remainder of one’s days to engage in
a fruitless search for that which one already had –
always comparing, always striving, always hoping…

All the meanwhile, succumbing to
meaningless encounters, losing one’s self for too many years into
a world of material and carnal excess –
dulling the pain of any real soulful connection, and
punishing oneself for what one gave up so carelessly by
resigning one’s corporal self to countless shallow relations.
The body is no longer sacred:
It has lost its soul counterpart.
In vain, she strives to mend her broken heart through
hollow acts of power in the form of
empty engagements.
An impenetrable wall of steel will has been erected:
the body is willing, but the heart is
bruised, shattered, and devastated by an inherent and
undeniable loss so profound, it desperately craves
release – release from the past – and to be reborn
pure, innocent, trusting and capable
of loving with wild abandon once again.

Without the past, one would not know love.
It takes loss – extreme loss, heartbreak and disappointment –
to know love, and to appreciate what once was.
And so now, she clings
to a fragile string of hopeful idealism.
Despite everything, she is resilient, and she
aches and longs to be vulnerable once more;
to allow herself complete abandon;
to be enveloped in that
idyllic cloud of sheer and utter
ecstasy and completeness;
to feel bigger than
oneself, and love something greater than oneself;
to long again and derive joyful tears from that longing;
to trust again, and to be grateful, thankful,
and to know –
to know when one has been graced with
this most magnanimous of all gifts;
to covet this precious gift and not plunder down that road of
youthful folly from before;
to embrace it, open herself and allow it to ingrain itself in her life
and her being once again…



Joined February 2008

  • Artist
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