The Writing on the Wall
He loves me, but does not know me.
If he knew me, he might not love me.
Does he, then, truly love me?
No. He does not.
Then what exacerbates the problem
Is his silence and his inability to know.
I understand the need to do other things.
I wish that he and I could understand one another.
It is my fondest human wish, indeed.
Yet, standing between us
Is a chasm of doubt and dispair.
So what can I do?
Shall I turn and never look his way again?
What can I do?
The rules do not apply with this one,
Neither rules of spirit, nor moral code
Nor logic. Nothing but a void remains.
Why step into that void? For a chance at love?
Is love really worth that chance?
After all the pain that has been felt
After all the scars that have not healed.
Nor ever will, fully.
Why step into the void of a maybe?
To further complicate things,
He and I do not subscribe to similar moral codes.
What is right for him is not what is right for me.
What is wrong for him is not wrong for me.
What is legend to him is religion to me,
His logic is always full of holes.
My logic is always full of holes.
None of this can possibly get us anywhere.
The writing on the wall is rearing its face, my love,
The writing on the wall.
It says that you must change in order to be with me.
It says that if I expect you to change, I may be disappointed
If I tell you that you must change or I will not love you,
I am prostituting myself:
I would be holding my love, my life, my body up
For the price of your change.
I will not play the whore.
Rather, I will seek a man that deserves me.
And, my love, how I want you to be that man.
If he knew me, he might not love me.
Does he, then, truly love me?
No. He does not.
Then what exacerbates the problem
Is his silence and his inability to know.
I understand the need to do other things.
I wish that he and I could understand one another.
It is my fondest human wish, indeed.
Yet, standing between us
Is a chasm of doubt and dispair.
So what can I do?
Shall I turn and never look his way again?
What can I do?
The rules do not apply with this one,
Neither rules of spirit, nor moral code
Nor logic. Nothing but a void remains.
Why step into that void? For a chance at love?
Is love really worth that chance?
After all the pain that has been felt
After all the scars that have not healed.
Nor ever will, fully.
Why step into the void of a maybe?
To further complicate things,
He and I do not subscribe to similar moral codes.
What is right for him is not what is right for me.
What is wrong for him is not wrong for me.
What is legend to him is religion to me,
His logic is always full of holes.
My logic is always full of holes.
None of this can possibly get us anywhere.
The writing on the wall is rearing its face, my love,
The writing on the wall.
It says that you must change in order to be with me.
It says that if I expect you to change, I may be disappointed
If I tell you that you must change or I will not love you,
I am prostituting myself:
I would be holding my love, my life, my body up
For the price of your change.
I will not play the whore.
Rather, I will seek a man that deserves me.
And, my love, how I want you to be that man.
posted by dyingember at 10:39 PM
1 Comments:
From Still Life With Woodpecker, by Tom Robbins:
Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is:
Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and the end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.
From Still Life With Woodpecker:
Who knows how to make love stay?
1. Tell love you are going to Junior’s Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.
2. Tell love you want a memento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.
3. Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.
From Still Life With Woodpecker
"The most important thing is love," said Leigh-Cheri. "I know that now. There's no point in saving the world if it means losing the moon."
Leigh-Cheri sent that message to Bernard through his attorney. The message continued, "I'm not quite 20, but, thanks to you, I've learned something that many women these days never learn: Prince Charming really is a toad. And the Beautiful Princess has halitosis. The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and the vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. Loving makes love. Loving makes itself. We waste time looking for the perfect lover instead of creating the perfect love. Wouldn't that be the way to make love stay?"
The next day, Bernard's attorney delivered to her this reply:
Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.
Leigh-Cheri went out in the blackberries and wept. "I'll follow him to the ends of the earth," she sobbed.
Yes, darling. But the earth doesn't have any ends. Columbus fixed that.
From Still Life With Woodpecker
"When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It's that simple. This suggests that it isn't love that is so important to us, but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. Yet it's always there, somewhere, a world on the other side of the mirror...a promise in the next pair of eyes that smile at us. We glimpse it when WE stand still.
The romance of new love, the romance of solitude, the romance of object-hood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know:
(1) EVERYTHING is part of it.
(2) It's never to late to have a happy childhood."
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