Soul searching is a very lengthy and intricate process. People DIE and never figure out who they are entirely. Its a life long journey, finding yourself, finding God, pursuing your relationship with Him. You never quite stop certain things. Some matters have no end time. With that said, you could well imagine the frustrating journey that is "soul searching" & the pursuit of love.
Some crazy things can happen when we get tired of putting in the work ourselves. We can wind up so frustrated that we don't want to really take the down time needed to heal. If we admit we need down time, it means we've been hurt and if we're down for too long, its means we've been really hurt. This coupled with the fear that many of us are running from healing certain wounds because we fear that if we stop...
stop working. stop walking. stop writing. stop running .from meeting to meeting. conversation to conversation. event to event. If we stop running from party to party, bar to bar, convo to convo, dm to dm
We fear that if we stop, we may never function quite right again. The wheels of life within us will never turn again. We would be stuck, soul-lessly wandering over the world. So routine...so hurt. So brokenhearted. So indefinitely teary eyed.
That is what it feels like sometimes...when you don't want to stop for long enough. You don't want to be told about yourself or your life or mistakes by anyone. The diagnosis is easy. Heart break. The damage may be irreparable. The diagnosis is easy, the damage control is hard. It sounds so exaggerated to people who love differently than us. Less intensely..Less " the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes and every vessel in between". Some love encounters are more euphoric, more drug like..than any outsider could truly imagine. Its different when you're actually there...star gazing- Laying on your back, staring at the sky on roof tops. Its different when you're doing things you've only seen in movies and its totally personal experience when you're so close to someone that you start to see the intricate details of the eyes. The brown seas rippling in their iris. Deep. That's what it is. Their eyes..the windows to their soul. That's what it is. Deep. And that is also where you are. You're in the deep.You're in deep. You've fallen into the sky of their eyes...and you're losing all your notions about love when they smile or when the wind curls its fingers and whisks some of their fragrance from the driver side window right into your face. The blessing that is their living scent seems to some how burst across your cheeks and dance with your nose. It hovers over your face till your cheeks get flushed and tighten. ..and then your heart starts to gallop.
Sometimes, you could almost feel Cupid's spell dissipating into your blood stream. You feel the poison-high surging through.Then its a different sort of high when you can feel your heart beating through your chest cause they're holding you so tight. You know, that time when your breathing gets a little shallow because it has to. Because its 11 p.m and the world is slowly falling asleep and their attraction brings them to the door step of your shy love. Shy,shy love shackled behind your eyes. You feel everything but you can't say a word ,like a car...dying to race but can't start.
You and your shy love. The shy love that has us avoiding glances. The shy love that is afraid that if their eyes lock with our eyes...that they will see the stars in our eyes ....
...but not fall...as we fell into their skies.
So now we are..
Helplessly, Hopelessly, Totally...
falling madly and dangerously...
in something which looks like Love's brother...
but in fact..May be...the long awaited Love himself..
coming in the distance...an adonis on a stallion...armour unpolished...
this veteran...is coming to forcefully, rightfully, please and thankfully...
Yes Lord & Finally...
.....
But we of course know, that is not how Love's Stories go. Love tends to leave hearts broken...
You think its Love..but its Love's brother...coming to light your love and watch the smoke rise...He invites you to sit after he sets the ambiance of your love on fire...to a delicious meal...of eating your heart out.
As only Poetic Justice would have it.
-Stella.
Some crazy things can happen when we get tired of putting in the work ourselves. We can wind up so frustrated that we don't want to really take the down time needed to heal. If we admit we need down time, it means we've been hurt and if we're down for too long, its means we've been really hurt. This coupled with the fear that many of us are running from healing certain wounds because we fear that if we stop...
stop working. stop walking. stop writing. stop running .from meeting to meeting. conversation to conversation. event to event. If we stop running from party to party, bar to bar, convo to convo, dm to dm
We fear that if we stop, we may never function quite right again. The wheels of life within us will never turn again. We would be stuck, soul-lessly wandering over the world. So routine...so hurt. So brokenhearted. So indefinitely teary eyed.
That is what it feels like sometimes...when you don't want to stop for long enough. You don't want to be told about yourself or your life or mistakes by anyone. The diagnosis is easy. Heart break. The damage may be irreparable. The diagnosis is easy, the damage control is hard. It sounds so exaggerated to people who love differently than us. Less intensely..Less " the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes and every vessel in between". Some love encounters are more euphoric, more drug like..than any outsider could truly imagine. Its different when you're actually there...star gazing- Laying on your back, staring at the sky on roof tops. Its different when you're doing things you've only seen in movies and its totally personal experience when you're so close to someone that you start to see the intricate details of the eyes. The brown seas rippling in their iris. Deep. That's what it is. Their eyes..the windows to their soul. That's what it is. Deep. And that is also where you are. You're in the deep.You're in deep. You've fallen into the sky of their eyes...and you're losing all your notions about love when they smile or when the wind curls its fingers and whisks some of their fragrance from the driver side window right into your face. The blessing that is their living scent seems to some how burst across your cheeks and dance with your nose. It hovers over your face till your cheeks get flushed and tighten. ..and then your heart starts to gallop.
Sometimes, you could almost feel Cupid's spell dissipating into your blood stream. You feel the poison-high surging through.Then its a different sort of high when you can feel your heart beating through your chest cause they're holding you so tight. You know, that time when your breathing gets a little shallow because it has to. Because its 11 p.m and the world is slowly falling asleep and their attraction brings them to the door step of your shy love. Shy,shy love shackled behind your eyes. You feel everything but you can't say a word ,like a car...dying to race but can't start.
You and your shy love. The shy love that has us avoiding glances. The shy love that is afraid that if their eyes lock with our eyes...that they will see the stars in our eyes ....
...but not fall...as we fell into their skies.
So now we are..
Helplessly, Hopelessly, Totally...
falling madly and dangerously...
in something which looks like Love's brother...
but in fact..May be...the long awaited Love himself..
coming in the distance...an adonis on a stallion...armour unpolished...
this veteran...is coming to forcefully, rightfully, please and thankfully...
Yes Lord & Finally...
.....
But we of course know, that is not how Love's Stories go. Love tends to leave hearts broken...
You think its Love..but its Love's brother...coming to light your love and watch the smoke rise...He invites you to sit after he sets the ambiance of your love on fire...to a delicious meal...of eating your heart out.
As only Poetic Justice would have it.
-Stella.
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ReplyDeleteA feast of words. Seasoned only as one familiar with boullion can prepare.
ReplyDeleteOne of the best literary compliments I have received thus far. Something about the cultural reference really brought it home. Only those who know a good bouillon can appreciate what You've just said. Thanks a million Mr. Pierre:)
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