Now, that song, whose title offers no insight into its beguiling beauty, and understated groove, is a true gem. It's a good soundtrack to the state of mind its title suggests. A sense of humor is indispensable in this life, but sometimes you find yourself in a situation that's no laughing matter. Today I laughed a lot, for a lot of reasons, and one of them was no laughing matter, rest assured.
So, there are cycles that come in and out of my life, revolving around people and their behaviors, as well as my own. One such cycle is the way I relate to women, or a particular woman, and how they relate to me. There are those who have lovely things to say, sweeping statements of flattery that butter me up, followed by actions that get stale very quickly. If you invest in their puffed up praise, toasting your good qualities, you'll dry up waiting for the satisfaction of those claims in action. It leaves your ego brittle, ready to crumble under the slightest pressure, your good will scattered to the wind, wasted upon the ground, crumbs to feed the laziest scavengers of the world.
I've learned to distrust these words, question the intentions of the people who utter them, effectively taking them with a grain of salt. I Laugh Them Off, because I know there's no fruit to be harvested from the seeds sewn. If I'm to judge, then I best judge a tree by its fruit right? Seems a good enough way to approach it as far as I can tell. If all you get is sour grapes, then I suppose you ought to be in the business of bottling wine. "In vino veritas" or so the saying goes.
My body, my blood, these things I've shared with these cunning tongues that deceive the mouths that they flagellate about, suggestively contorting themselves, to bend my will, lead me astray from the path lain out before me. I gave myself up once before, sheered my own locks in repentance. My locks saw no razor for upwards of a year. My own inability to manage them led to their demise yet again, much to the chagrin of the whirling dervish of a femme whose kind words and high praise found cracks in my walls, and poured into my soul. Little did I know how fiercely and often she'd spin me around in the years to come. At one time the euphoria of losing my bearings was a thrill I wanted to sustain, unaware of the ultimate consequence, but years on, countless circles spun in vain, I have no desire to succumb to vertigo once again. I only move in straight lines and right angles now.
So, when I find myself dancing around thoughts, spinning stories and sharing smiles, revolving around the connection I seem to share with a woman who could have me wrapped around her finger several times over a few years ago, the coarseness of the twine that connects past to present is drawn taught, tensile strength magnified, binding any heart strings come undone from the sutures they've been used on to stitch up the deepest of lacerations. I can't afford to be unraveled yet again, I can't stand the strain or stress of entertaining the thought of someone handling my heart with less than careful, delicate hands, & honorable intentions. So I smile, my mind races, spherical routes orbiting the ember of hope in my mind that there is something real to be shared, somewhere, with someone, who takes love seriously, and doesn't treat it like a trifle thing, making a joke of those who hold it & every grand communication & collaboration that comes with it, dear.
Until I have confidence that I can find that woman, that relationship, all the gamesmanship and conversation I find myself engaging in is fuel for a long drawn out retreat from the joke that is the way people treat Love in this life. So I sheepishly play along, knowing I can't take their hollow words or empty actions to heart, and find no humor in how the joke is on us. Nothing funny about it at all. It's pathetic, so why not mock it with laughter and move on?
No comments:
Post a Comment