man in progress

too many love poems

brightlightsloudnoises:

i’ll fall in love too
easily
and for almost no reason
at all

it’s hilarious
to feel
a heart
stop on a dime
a
slow dance off
a cliff
and
lips
too good
at things
lips weren’t made to
do

too many love poems
for two skinny arms

and
the newspaper
on the
mat in
the morning

I guess all it took was 
just one
moment.

Laughter caught us
by surprise, and we tripped
over memories that
made our cheeks burn.

I found myself staring
longer than usual.

And I think I was smiling
for probably much more.

Have you ever noticed how
red-hot ashes dance
like short-lived fireflies
around a burning pyre?

I could hear the birds at last,
and the wind was a gentle caress.

But it was the
evening sky that reminded me.

That night
I knelt in prayer
and prayed to God
to take it all away.

Because
even the beauty
of the evening sky is stained with
purple teardrops

And around the burning
pyre, everything eventually
catches flame;

except for one
dying, dancing firefly
who saved one last
dance
for another
whom 
he never 
met.

There is this thing afflicting me that I find extremely irritating. It seems to be a mediocre disease that should hardly be of any concern, a state of mind caught in a sort of bourgeois limbo - which leads me to wonder if people my age too are feeling the same thing that I am.

How can I describe this feeling? A ponderous trudge through stagnant pools of restlessness, a congestion in my lungs as though the air has suddenly become much denser, an irascible hate for inertia and mediocrity. I need to be someone unexpected, to do something passionate - but somehow a force pushes me down when I try to stand, and once again I am caught in the swills of the mundane.

I’m trying to finding new ways to improve myself, to hopefully be a breath of fresh air (maybe out of some sort of desperation?). I’m taking Russian lessons (здравствуйте!), to hopefully read Pasternak in his own language. Muay Thai too, to one day fight in an amateur fight. I’ll also be backpacking around Eastern Europe for 2 months after I ORD. Some other things-in-progress: scuba diving, and re-learning the violin so I can play the Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2. I’ve been listening to it everyday and it helps with everything. Please listen to it, you won’t regret it.

But love - love is something I must put aside, although I truly wish I didn’t have to. It feels like I’m abandoning something just because I don’t have it. Then why am I pursuing everything else? I can’t explain this either. Love is something I must embrace fully, to be wholly subsumed in if I ever choose to love. And I’m afraid I have no time. I have my men, my duty, my responsibilities. Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. I remember reading that somewhere. It’s much easier to pursue excellence in everything else… other than love, I guess.

I have to be alone, for now. I wonder if the Man With No Name in all those Clint Eastwood films has ever felt pangs of loneliness and a strong yearning for someone to hold, as I have.

Strength will always prevail. And God is with those who are patient. Even so, I cannot help but be reminded of Majnun’s prayer:

“Let me love, oh my God, love for love’s own sake, and make my love a hundred times as great as it was and is!”

THE BEST PACE IS A SUICIDE PACE, AND TODAY LOOKS LIKE A GOOD DAY TO DIE

I have faith that chivalry and honour still exist