The keeper of my heart
My friend and I like to talk about everything. The exclusivity of the topic of sex is a completely different area in our relationship. Of course our sexual relationship is not only nonstandard, it is also classified. After all, we don’t always have it habitually or routinely as much as we would like to, but it is what it is and we’re succumbed to this actuality. With awareness of our own independent lives, we settle in our world of friendship and the wisdom of knowing that in the end we don’t belong to each other. Our insight is parallel, yet our individual existence remains clear of each other. Tragic, but true.
We also confront the subject of love even more significant than sex. He tells me he’ll stay with me until love finds me again. I respond to have found love. He adds that this love should be from a man who will be mine for keeps. And as long as this keeper hasn’t found me, my lover will be with me – in mind and spirit.
It is tragic. Romantics shouldn’t be hearing, let alone, uttering these ominous words. But we are realists in the sense that we know this consummation will meet its end; when exactly, I don’t know. I only know what he makes me. I know I am growing in our silent nearness. My flower now blooms in what used to be a barren land in my heart. My earth is moist and rich again, and soon I know more colorful flora will grow. With new seeds of hope, the petals of charity will once again appear from the blooms of faith; my faith. It is in the thirst for inspiration that will give way to the keeper of my heart. As far as I know he has my heart. He has it wholly, fully, and cleanly without impurities and toxicity. Only he shall have this for as soon as the guardian claimed ownership of it, I am most convinced its virtue will be corrupted by sins of jealousy, selfishness and possessiveness. My love affair with this soulful man is not without sin; as a matter of fact, in moralistic concerns, it is labeled sinful. However, I am not guilty of the sins of jealousy which would give way to deceitful ways to make him mine for good. I steer clear of the possessiveness. I don’t claim to own his loyalty, but rather I have his restricted love and affection.
He and I are not free to keep each other, yet we poignantly express freedom with our bodies, heart and mind. And in our pleasure, we give and receive not only the desires of our fueling hearts, but also the pain and suffering of frustrations and despair.
In the garden of pleasure, I am his flower and he is my bee.
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn
that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
but it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
for to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
and to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
and to both, bee and flower,
the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
- Kahlil Gibran
We also confront the subject of love even more significant than sex. He tells me he’ll stay with me until love finds me again. I respond to have found love. He adds that this love should be from a man who will be mine for keeps. And as long as this keeper hasn’t found me, my lover will be with me – in mind and spirit.
It is tragic. Romantics shouldn’t be hearing, let alone, uttering these ominous words. But we are realists in the sense that we know this consummation will meet its end; when exactly, I don’t know. I only know what he makes me. I know I am growing in our silent nearness. My flower now blooms in what used to be a barren land in my heart. My earth is moist and rich again, and soon I know more colorful flora will grow. With new seeds of hope, the petals of charity will once again appear from the blooms of faith; my faith. It is in the thirst for inspiration that will give way to the keeper of my heart. As far as I know he has my heart. He has it wholly, fully, and cleanly without impurities and toxicity. Only he shall have this for as soon as the guardian claimed ownership of it, I am most convinced its virtue will be corrupted by sins of jealousy, selfishness and possessiveness. My love affair with this soulful man is not without sin; as a matter of fact, in moralistic concerns, it is labeled sinful. However, I am not guilty of the sins of jealousy which would give way to deceitful ways to make him mine for good. I steer clear of the possessiveness. I don’t claim to own his loyalty, but rather I have his restricted love and affection.
He and I are not free to keep each other, yet we poignantly express freedom with our bodies, heart and mind. And in our pleasure, we give and receive not only the desires of our fueling hearts, but also the pain and suffering of frustrations and despair.
In the garden of pleasure, I am his flower and he is my bee.
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn
that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
but it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
for to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
and to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
and to both, bee and flower,
the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
- Kahlil Gibran
posted by Marian "Ylang2" at 11:14 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home