Subj. ~Answering the Siren's Call~
Dec 17 1998
Azling, my sweet Azling,
There are times I believe that you are truly reading my thoughts before they have had a chance to hatch naturally. Dejavu permeates my entire being as your words echo in my ears. Am I remembering a distant fading dream trying to bring it back close and retain its clarity, or am I wrapped in the reality of the moment looking at an unique and unknown future? With every choice springing from it, more choices.
I have taken to reading your revelations aloud, which sheds differing shadows on the intent. The thought of you reading my words this way drives me mad, you do paint a vivid picture. Which makes me wonder if you have heard me read Poe recently. I am sure that would cast an enlightening shadow. Of course you are right, it is the one who commits the surprise, that is without a doubt the one taking the leap of faith. To truly ask a question of the unknown, and not just look for conformations for decisions already made, is to open the door to a whirlwind and can obliterate the question and the questioner.
Much like the spider spinning his "surprise" for the
unsuspecting fly. A high and mighty web spun from tree to tree in the highest recesses of
the forest, a lofty entrapment not even the largest insect could penetrate. Only at the
completion of his selfish burden does he realize that his goals were too lofty, when an
unknowing bat effortlessly flies through the would be assassin's snare taking him along
for the ride of his life
A rollercoaster funeral procession.
Normally I am not one to start a nightmare, but I usually enthusiastically join in on them. I confess this is a lie because there are times that this moth is irresistibly drawn to a flame.
I am relatively confident our hypothetical encounter would be no less dramatic.You have me primed for further exploits of this October Rust, especially if it tells me more of you .. but how could it not. The tease told me so much .. and so little. Alas it seems that this is par for the course. I too, share your anticipation of the brief glimpses wondering if the contents hold another piece of the puzzle, the piece that will fit into place and show me the nature of the whole that eludes. It does seem to me that fairy tales and nightmares, if not one and the same, are "similar in nature". Is the pied piper a hero or a villain or both? Merely a matter of perspective I suppose.
I see myself darting headlong in this direction and that
all or nothing in which ever way I go
.. reaching for the light at the end of the
... Gracefully bumbling, distracted and blinking by this flash and
.. Looking for the flame
.. The white hot intensities as I approach,
blinding me, a sirens call I can not heed
. The heat burning my skin
of where I must go
.. into the flame
. I wince and blink and rub my eyes and
.. opening them to lay upon you
Azling, my child
.. let me oh a blinding light . Burning in the fire of enticement the path that lies just around the bend .. canopied in a in a flaming tunnel of light shrouded in blaze does it hide a treacherous cliff off to its jagged edges .. or a firm shoulder to tread upon
The wonderland of darkness. I like it.
I also share your conclusion that "We .. are . "SO" .. very much like one another our thoughts seemingly linked ." I can not describe all the intricacies and nuances of this, of which, if I were to convey, you would think me deranged. Words are sincerely superfluous in this regard. We are also two sides of the same coin in some ways. I found your three choices frustrating. I see ~1~ and ~3~, freedom and struggle one and the same, one can not exist without the other. Not unlike Abba and the Accuser. And ~2~ Reside is simply not in my nature. Only after a monumental obliteration of passion would I reside even then it would be a lie. When it comes to dealing with the fates .. my usual inclination is to tempt them and laugh in their face; then at least you know who is laughing at whom.
.. But I digress
Your point is well taken. There are times I want to figuratively grab you bodily and say, "Do not toy with me wench. Rip down this fašade of mystery and show yourself." Then you break my heart and the pieces melt away with a thought like "a thick cloak of deceit that you wear so well", until I come to understand what you mean, that you are right and I obtain a moment of fleeting clarity in knowing who you are.
The closer you get to the meaning, the sooner you know you are
Sometimes it is best if we do not get to touch our dreams.
Love, the mighty drug we crave, the master and the slave,
Will rule us to our grave.
Bloody Kisses indeed,