Once More

Seems unlikely that one would be doing laundry at half past midnight, but that's what it is for me. The timing is perfect to lay all the clothes in the middle of the living room, flick a lampswitch, and feed the stereo with Nora Jones. Once again the house is mine. Yet again, my soul is mine.

The melancholy of the night is unsettling. Just when I am starting to understand the serenity of a place and favor it now for the bustling world I lived in, the recent sense of joy falters and my resilience to the surroundings wavers. It is a state of my mind as my heart dictates this somberness.

As swiftly as love enters my craving spirit, hastily it leaves me. Once more, I find myself alone.

And in healing, I will remember ...

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night;
To know the pain of too much tenderness;
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstacy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.
- Kahlil Gibran