Today,
I fight irrelevance.
I wrestle with it
as one wrestles with
shadows or
the urge to *****.

I must admit,
it is an overdramatized,
drawn out tussle.
In my head,
it is as if the world is
collapsing,
memories reduced to
cinders,
my being
turned to ash.
But in reality
it is just another passing
of the day,
as one lends itself to the next,
the nights growing shorter,
all is well
it seems.

I cannot come to
agreeable terms
with fate.
I cannot accept that,
for certain people,
I have already lived
my moments of importance.

Each time I remember
the few fragments
of intimacy in my life,
I become less convinced
that I should suffer
in passivity.
There is a pang of desperation
reverberating in my heart
that moves me to action.

Somedays,
I wish no more to reminisce,
I say
silly things.
"I shall recreate my memories,
but this time with urgency,
vivaciously,
with life
and love,
and create from it
new memories that
I will struggle to believe
are mine."

I go out
and find no one waiting.
Had I not been here long enough
to have at least
one person
think of me?
Such are my thoughts,
as I look pensively at the moon
with memories of
a head resting against my shoulder
or conversations with
people whose names I have forgotten,
swirling in my head.

I have been called,
a few times already,
a hopeless romantic.
I am misunderstood!
First, I must ask,
what is it that I must hope for?

I strive for pure, absolute love.
Everything else is beside that.

I only want to love
for the sake of love.
I only want to express love,
for the sake of expressing love.

I do not hope for reciprocation,
which is what I suspect others suspect of me.
I am successful if I can express affection
in a readily appreciable way.
If I can express love,
I can attain fulfilment and satisfaction.
I need nothing more.

When given the choice
to treat a loved one with either
bitterness or tenderness,
must you really think twice about your decision?
Then at which point does what you receive in return
play a part?
Will you really deprive yourself of the opportunity
of giving love
if you receive nothing in return?

Selfishness is at the heart of entitlement.
To say, "I will not give if I cannot receive"
is the peak of entitlement.
It is natural to feel pain in the face of
total rejection,
however this is only the burden that you must bear
in the name of love,
proof that your feelings are steadfast and genuine.

To withdraw your oaths of affection
after the fact
is an admission to have never loved at all.
I must remind you that
your emotions entitle you to nothing.
We have no reason to be selfish.

Again I ask,
why deprive yourself the opportunity to give love?
Shall you really withdraw water from a beautiful flower
that blooms in someone else's garden?
If affection really drives us,
is the wellbeing and happiness of the person in question
not more than enough to suffice?

I find that in matters of pure love,
the self is rarely concerned.
The self is merely a vessel to deliver.
How is it that we have arrived at the notion
that is also a vessel to receive?

Alas, I do not mean to say
that we may only love one person in a single life.
The contrary.
There is always room for someone new,
and there is always room to give,
and to give freely,
without expectation to receive anything in return.
Would you not agree that this is the mark of
pure, absolute love?

I can only see as far
as the ocean's horizon.
Why despair
of things beyond it?

How uncertain we are of the future!
We will only experience the present.
And so I ask,
why despair of things
beyond the horizon of the eternal now?

If it is as a storm that brews off the coast,
we are powerless to stop it.
Who has stood helplessly at the shore
without taking shelter,
when faced with a great storm?
We may only accept it.

How is it that I should learn from others?

Shall I observe a drunk man
stumble across the street
and say,
"This is a poor man,
whose inner-self is in such turmoil
that he must nullify it with alcohol.
Somewhere, he has chosen wrongly in life
and may I not retrace the errors
that have produced such wrong"?

Or shall I point at a beggar and say,
"This is a poor man,
whose condition is so outwardly wretched,
even God seems to cast him away in disgust.
Somewhere, he has chosen wrongly in life
and may I not retrace the errors
that have produced such wrong"?

Although, such retrospective thoughts come with some truth,
it is also accompanied with great vulgarity.
Who is unworthy of love?
Thus, who can be deprived the chance for change?
We all must fail in at least one thing,
why persecute those with courage to live through failure?

The lesson learned from such men
is not in the now.
It is in the past,
which bears realities which none can alter,
and in the future,
of which any can change.
Is there a man more
admirable,
worthy of love,
than he who overcomes his past?

Are you aware of the pasts of those around?
And yet how quickly we can judge.
How many times have we dismissed someone
on the cusp of something great?
We are all worthy of love,
who are we to spend it sparingly?

To the drunk,
I bid him good cheer and good luck,
and to the beggar,
I will buy him bread.
These men are capable of great change.

Even in bitterness
and deep despair,
I know I am on the doorstep of
great love.

Who, when asked to prove
the genuineness of their affection,
would draw back?
If asked to suffer for their ideals,
who would renounce them?

If I am suffering,
it is for a great cause,
it is to prove that I can live purely,
and feel purely,
unable
unwilling
to compromise
on fundamental matters
of both soul and heart.

Again,
I listen to Chopin,
read Byron,
in search of
a reason.

It is a wonderful book.
It has not changed my life,
but confirmed it.