Showing posts with label Kismet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kismet. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Confessions of the Unrequited

As intelligent human beings we sometimes have a tendency to ignore basic fundamental truths about life.   One being our instincts and how accurate they are most of the time.  In my opinion, as we have become more and more 'civilized' we have figured out how to ignore our animal natures for the sake of logic.  I particularly have a tendency to ignore all that defies logic.

Love has and always will defy logic.  Why would I, how could I fall in love in a moment without a thought other than this.  I am in love.  Frozen and in shock completely unbidden. I never asked for this part. For so long I've been aware of your existence and never noticed anything about it. One moment, one chance meeting and I see nothing else. I feel like I'm insane.  I am an intelligent, rational, pragmatic creature that only on occasion commits to flights of fancy and fantasy driven rhetoric.  And when I do, I'm careful to keep it contained.  But this overwhelms me and I can't hold it in not one second longer.

What are the rules of engagement when it comes to declaring impossible, unrequited fairytale love?  In person, by love letter, over a near death experience.  All can either take the path of enlightenment or fall short to suffer the slow pangs of death by the mundane rudimentary nature of our normal existences.  But I was never a stickler for normalcy. Normalcy feels like art without passion. Just an empty shell of what could be. I'm rambling and stalling.

I hope this is taken with the utmost suspension of disbelief.  Because I don't believe I have ever been so painfully honest as I am being right now for you.

I don't know you, yet what I feel . . . I am in love with you and I know as surely as the sun will rise in the morning and set the following night that I will love whoever I find you to be. 

When you tell others of this foolish strange wordy woman throwing herself at you shamelessly, please feel flattered.  I beg of you to speak kindly of someone who has never conducted herself like this before and try not to make it into too big of a joke at my expense.  I may be insane but I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago so I expect nothing more than the knowledge that I was honest enough to tell you.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Prologue of Shuttered Vision from the Series Life Goes On


 She was surrounded by flowers.  They ranged in fragrance and hue.  Some were lilac, some daisies, lavender, roses, orchids, hyacinths.  It was the colors that captured one's attention.  Unlike any she'd ever seen.  They were vivid, vibrant shades of sun orange, amethyst purple, sapphire blue, ruby red with amazing emerald greens.  Some shown in multiple colors like red and green for bloodstones. Dark carnelian red, smoky iridescent quartz. She stared into her sky; it always looked like sunset with vivid blues and purples mixing with reds and oranges. Cloudy enough to make a lovely image, but never so cloudy that it seemed gloomy.

She inhaled deeply as she lay in the field of flowers understanding the message she was being given as the scent of white sage floated laced with the fragrance of the flowers. Eyes closed she pushed deeper into herself.  From her field she could determine all she needed to know.  She needed to find who was calling her, had been calling her for months now. But always lingered the thought, this one is a stranger and doesn't want to be found. She felt the pressure of a hand. It was larger than hers, firm and rough.  The breath on the back of her neck was steady and calm.  He lay right behind her, right under her, right beside her.  In this place he was practically a part of her.

She tried to turn around to face him, but was stopped. The sensation was odd for her, these things were always under her control.  No one got to make choices for her here yet here he was stopping her. She pressed harder and was met with more force. Abruptly she turned and the world pitched to black.  She was falling through her field.  The flower base being ripped away as her nose was assaulted by burning flesh.  Her eyes flew open and she saw the petals smoldering beside her as they all fell.  She looked down to see herself falling towards pits of lava, banked flaming mounds of earth and oceans of burning water sizzling away, salting the air with it's demise. Creatures colored with flame and smelt snapped their jaws at her ready to devour her.  Flame winged imps and demons swarmed above them taunting them with the kill they couldn't have whipping them into a frenzy.  Sea leviathans with several heads and tails swam freely in the burning oceans eating all that crossed their path. Stubby, stumpy moss covered beasts resembling jackals roamed the flaming mounds unheaded.  There was peril at every stop.

She threw her hands in front of her face to shield what was coming her way.  Then suddenly she stopped falling.  An arm secured her at the waist as strong arms pulled her around and she pressed her now tearstained cheeks to his neck.

"Who are you and why have you brought me here?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. You were never meant to be here. I like your field," a deep masculine voice replied.

"What hell are you from?"

"The worst kind, the one of my own making."

She vaguely noticed that they were moving upward.  And within moments she was as she was before on her back in her field his presence there but not intrusive.

"How did you get here?" she asked him knowing that if she tried to face him again she would be dumped into his hell.

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out.  But I'm selfish enough to not mind if it doesn't bother you."

"You need my help."

"I have all the help from you I need.  Right here in your field."

"It's more than that.  You don't understand what I am, what I do.  No one shows up here that I don't already know."

"I should go --"

"No wait --"

"See ya next time Flower girl."

 Fiona awoke from a dead sleep with the stranger's voice still clear in her head. She clutched her head and doubled over in her bed for a moment.  She straightened and with a deep sigh reached for her journal and started cataloging the points of her dream so that she could analyze it when morning came.  She lay back on her headrest when she was done shaken.  Who was that man haunting her dreams?  He had been there for months now.  And over the course of time his presence had gotten stronger as he felt more comfortable with her. 

At first it had been just a brief but untimely intrusion.  She hadn’t even really noticed anyone was there.  Almost like an itch that was easily scratched.  She had determined it was nothing and it became so.  A brief irritation she had swiftly evicted.  But somehow he had found other ways in and had made her sanctuary his safe haven. 

Fiona lay back down and sighed willing herself to go back to sleep.  Maybe by the light of a new day she would be able to make sense of this chaos.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Of Love and Madness

It wasn't desperation, couldn't be desperation that makes me act.
It wasn't confusion, couldn't be confusion that makes me wait.
It wasn't masochism, couldn't be masochism that makes me hold on.

The thoughts swirl and mix.  Chemistry of the brain the scientists will call it.  This gland secretes this fluid, and the reaction is love.  This gland releases this hormone, and the change is lust. This enzyme is allowed to run free in your brain, and it manufactures hate. So very simple is it, in the end the things that power a being to move.  So very simple.

Your brain sends this signal, and your heart rate speeds up.  Your synapses process this change, and respond to make your sweat glands react. This reaction takes away from another, and your mouth goes dry.  This dryness triggers a response that dilates your eyes. The process for fear takes movement from your limbs.  The fluid secreted to minimize your movement and maximize your senses. Your senses expand making everything clearer.  Sense of taste, smell, sensation, hearing, even sight to tell the brain how next to respond.  What fluid to secrete. What enzyme to release. What sense to expand. What action to take next.  It's all a biological process that is easy to explain.  Why you feel the way you do.

Why do I feel the way that I do?  What process triggers that? What fluid is released and secreted? What change has happened to cause this to occur? Where did this start?  Not from a thought, not from a moment, no stimulation on my part.  It was the other one that started this.  What did they do to inject such intensity. Why with a look can the world shift on its axis? 

The science explains nothing. Instead just confirms my madness. It's incomplete this definition. Without a proper point of entry.  The big bang theory on love. It just happened without an impetus without a cause. There has to be another place, another wall; a path we haven't seen.  There has to be another channel another space that we can't perceive.

It wasn't desperation, couldn't be desperation
It wasn't confusion, couldn't be confusion
It wasn't masochism, couldn't be masochism

Does the oxygen in the air thin when they arrive?  The levels of carbon dioxide become greater, and takes away from the air quality. Maybe they exude a pheromone that causes my tongue to swell. Perhaps they have altered my gravity setting off an unerring chain reaction in my head; the brain seeks to protect itself from the heightened levels. Too much iron in their blood causing a magnetic response. Water, of course, they have lower or higher levels of water in their system. The hydrogen makes me light headed. It is a volatile element always on the brink of exploding.

Nonsense, foolish tripe, driveling nonsense. The elements don’t react that way.  The human form is not only a body.  It is a body, connected to a controlling conscious mind driven by an unseeable unphantomable force called a spirit. I would reason that while the body is ruled by the mind, and the mind has made itself a slave to reason, this spirit knows nothing of logic.  Logic this construct of man to give reason focus, and to relegate emotion to fantasy.  Something to sometimes indulge, but never take too seriously.  After all it bears no true weight and meaning.  And yet it explains all else that logic can't.

It wasn't desperation
It wasn't confusion
It wasn't masochism

I must call it madness. That's what any sensible human being calls it when it doesn't have a logical explanation.  Only that which is logical is sane.  Correct. . It wasn't...  Correct, logic is the only true answer.  In logic is reason, and reason has justification, reason has . . .  It wasn't . . . has the essence of life.  We have created so much on the back of reason. . .It wasn't is just this fanciful idea. It's a theoretical theological myth. . . It wasn't . . . love doesn't happen this way in an instant.  It is cultivated over time, between two people with a wealth of common goals and interests and they. . . It wasn't  . . love each other because it's practical and beneficial.  That thing was just a chemical response, physiology and such . . . it wasn't. . .love.  It wasn't love, how could it be love. How could it be love?

How could it be anything but love?