An emotional distance is always the safest bet. Also the knowledge that the one who reigns is also bound by the most ruthless pledge. When both work together, in tandem, one gets to those totally sublime peaks, rather plateaus, of detachment and nonchalance, and life is just one droning monotone. Ah! Sweet bliss.
I will not have him because I choose not to have him. Yet, I shall always have him. Contradictory? No, sir. The truth and nothing but the truth.
Cynicism is passé. Now it’s all about detachment, not even stoicism, but real aloofness, impassiveness, call it what you will – and that itself remains a jagged peak that tosses its unscaleable heights right into my face, but guess what, it’s not so unscaleable after all. When one is already halfway there one knows that it’s not the Promised Land. The disappointment that tints the jagged shards with some dirty shade shall again be dismissed as a cleverly concealed trap with a hungrily open mouth, patiently waiting for weary travellers to fall headlong into it.
He can’t help but stare fixedly at me, while I, I don’t even have to fill my eyes with him, because his splendour fills this soul that already brims over with joy. Contradictory? If truth contradicts, so be it.
For once, step out of the ugly, corroding carapaces that hide your shining, beautiful self. There is muck all around, poison tipped arrows, flat-chested eunuchs hiding behind the safety of their blindness and casting those stones, again, those ancient stones, cast again, over and over again, and they are not even regarded, not because they need to be ignored, but because they are helpless in their blindness, and one does not duel with the hapless.
My dark tresses bind him, his eternal wait is for my darkness as mine is for his radiance.