(written during deployment)
Tigris river in the background
The woman’s authentic fear:
“I don’t want to be
manicured for the keeping of a husband, that my entire life source be wasted as
the shining trophy displayed in the glass case of our home.”
I simply wonder if she poses a
question that may be going through the minds of many young women today. Humor me for just a moment because if her words are echoing the cries of what is
meant to live in the modern empire of dynamic living--- for a woman that
is, maybe this is a subject worth giving a couple moments. I will pose a couple questions, maybe we can find answers to a deafeningly difficult question: “Is it worth it?”
My first question:
“Is the glass case of your home not enough, most delightful woman?” Surely you are a gem of desire in a sea of
male possibilities for it’s only those who are plagued with these fears that
recite in this way. “Are the tender
delights of a proud affectionate husband a fearful circumstance for you?”
I only retreat to this illustration for it intimately
reveals what we all must consider, “What matters most in life? And is it worth it?” Formulaic breakdown of the elements--- your
life source will be used regardless of desire to employ it or not, in such a sense
that every life source is used. Whether
in exercise of pleasure or displeasure, of tender grass roots sprouting shoots
of love around you, in a trophy case, among love consummated, or in illicit
discipline to your desired end. Excellent,
whatever your desire, experience or don’t experience, but realize you will
still grow, you will still see all the great sights, and experience most all wonders
in existence though you manage to escape love.
To escape it is your right by design, your right by refining. Hide yourself and embrace the solitary
reckoning that is your station. Keep all
ties to monetary full decking within the palms of your delicate hands. For there in your delicate hands it will
stay. There is no fear of loss in this,
and in the light that is the greatest of hope for you, I hope for your great
gain. That savage delights of beauty,
success, and momentum overtake you.
Overtake you like the exhilaration of waves that wash forth the pace of
your brand new days. That your mind is
saturated with the autonomous yet deft power of flight that your soul has
attained. That you be strong in this,
knowing there is no taking of this away.
Secure, seeing the pleasures of your social world stay. In the end love will catch you though. Some way, somehow the tidal wave of love’s
velocity will find you sleeping in your hometown. It will find you sleeping like the knock at
the door from a friend not seen in years.
It will catch you at the store buying groceries as an acquaintance who
remembers you near. When you’re driving,
this random sight will appeal to your senses to make the phone-call, drive, or
write the letter that will place you on love’s doorstep. Though you remain a fugitive in your heart
from one of life’s greatest gifts, this magnificent entity will shower you
anyway with the dew of heaven wherever you plant your feet. Though you build a bomb shelter,
encapsulating yourself, it will sneak in with the arrival of supplies. Though you reject its human representation in
every being you see, it will find means to present itself to you in the inhuman
associations that abide in your dwelling.
The trappings of convenience will quietly reveal the gaping wonders of
ingenuity that allow your soul to be effected, affected, and infected by the
trials of tender illumination. In your
great heights the prostrate embodiment will lie before you in humble desire and
adoration for a moment of your attention, and significance added to its
meaning. For you can only add to love’s
meaning, never take away, you can only impart the heartbeat it’s needing, not
cause desire to stray. Imprisoned,
shackled, it waits for you, enslaved in the most barbarous of tasks awaiting
the day of your satisfaction. The day of
your possible reaction to the entity that pursues you with the full breadth of
its being. Not for trivial pleasure of
gain, or the obligatory hopes of something permanently retained. Awaiting the reality of searing loss and loving
the cost, because you are more desired than a thirsty land desires rain. These are the raiments of affection that
pursue you to the ends of the earth, for a hesitant scoop full of your
attention. Alone in the cold it wanders,
shivering, destitute without comfort just for a moment to say: I witnessed her, I saw her, and she looked
into my eyes. Ultimately, when this type of love is discovered between two individuals it's always worth it.
--GB
