Video: Fish Love

This is a very interesting perspective on what we commonly call love. Some of us will find this a little ‘confronting’. However, it seemed totally appropriate for thsi site. Enjoy. 🙂

– Paul Ransom, April 2017

 

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Love letter # 344

On a short break, lingering at the café I usually go to, and all I can think of is you. The colour of the sky, the edges of chill in the pools of shade, the goldening of leaves. Just like the autumn of our wanting all over again. The promise not quite realised. The moment having passed.

Why did we never walk across that space? How did the gravity between us fail to pull us into collision? What manner of terror kept us from having what we both desired?

I used to shatter awake, bursting out of dreams straight into thoughts of you. I could smell you in the air. In those days you were all around me. That glorious fall of our longing. The very nearly season. The almost hour.

And right now, in this hour – the blue of afternoon so deep and rich, the remains of summer ever paler and cooler – I am in your sway once more. As though you were across from me, smiling that smile of yours; and all I can feel is the tremor of ancient madness. The dammed up distemper of almost touching you.

I drink my black coffee in your honour and look at the empty seat opposite.

Later, I will reflect on this, ask myself why this ghost still hovers. It’s not as though the years have not been filled with other loves, with all kinds of distraction. But I already know the reason. For I have tasted many things, ‘cept the sweetness of your limbs.

In the absence of everything but beauty.

 

Only in mine eye shalt thee be one,

For mine is the eye outside,

The eye that is not an eye,

The seeing that is not seeing.

The knowing that knows nothing;

For I am the I that is not an I.

 

When you look at me, what will you see?

No – not even the darkness.

When you come to my door, where will you be?

No – not even anywhere.

And when you ask of me, who but an echo …?

For I am the silence and you are the noise.

 

This is the absence by which presence is known.

This is the zero that adds up to one.

Here is the space that takes up no room.

Now the eternal outside of time – not even an instant.

Behold, it is the infinite stillness:

The empty oneness of Nothing.

 

If you will look quietly into this void,

You may glimpse the Absolute;

For if you will dare to see without fear

You will know at once that there is nothing to know

And if you will understand without grasping

Everything … Everything … Everything.

 

There is no story to tell, no purpose to unfold,

No secret meaning to wrench from mystery.

Neither is there favour or judgement, nor journey to endure –

Because we are already here.

In the indescribable, awesome embrace of Nothing.

In the absence of everything but beauty.

 

For that which is without form or feature,

Without person or plan,

Which cannot be divided,

Nor contained by word or thought or wisdom –

This is the unity by which unity is known.

The eye of Nothing, in which Everything can be beheld as beauty.

Love letter # 470

It doesn’t take much. Just your name. Spoken, thought of or written down. Four letters to let loose the storm. To break the night open. Smash the atoms. Destroy the ramparts of denial. For you are the end of my arrogance and the beginning of my nakedness. You are the eviscerating force that reduces bullish language to supplicant sound. If, before you, I was noise and colour and pomp, with your kiss I was quietened. In your hands, made humble. With your love, unleashed.

Love letter # 329

Facebook told me it was your birthday, so I posted the usual blurb on your Timeline – but

it really said nothing about how seeing your name and remembering you triggered me.

With a thought I was seventeen and seeing you again in the gold autumn light after school. You were so close to me but you may as well have been on the other side of the universe. I was paralysed. Your beauty, my desire – how they conspired to strike me dumb.

I think now about why I never said anything back then. I guess I was so utterly afraid you’d say no. I just couldn’t stand the idea that someone I adored might think nothing of me; or at any rate not enough of me.

The funny thing is I don’t regret it – because even now you are an angel in my estimation. You still hover like the promise of indescribable ecstasy. A girl undiminished by the mundane erosion of relationship. A dream not woken by uglier realities. I can think of you and still hear the bell ring. It vibrates the cells in my body. The memory electric.

I do not know if you ever thought fondly or romantically of me, yet what a treasure you have given me. With your terrifying beauty. With the distance you so perfectly maintained.