Oh what an angel, Oh what a show

Like an angel descending from the clouds, she quickened our hearts into ecstasy, banishing all doubts that bliss would not last forever. Her voice plucked us from our seats, raising us to pedestals of great heights. Consumed with wonder, we took in her graceful magnificence. Say what you will, she is a goddess of splendid proportions.

Often my aversion to my first love, music, is ignited by mediocrity of the masses. Not this night. Skepticism was erased and cynicism eradicated. My spirit fluttered as perfection was flawlessly executed before my very eyes. One does not often experience such a display, but a few of us were fortunate to behold gloriousness, a sharper image of beauty. Surely this encounter will go with me all the days of my life.

O

This past weekend was one of the greatest of my life. Someone who I love very much made it clear to me that the future is only a whisper away. Never have I presumed to think that I would be lucky enough to encounter true love, much less marriage and a family. But these things are possible. They are not hidden away, reserved only for those who have earned it.

True companionship is found in one’s unrelenting willingness to accept another, regardless of his faults. I have learned this through my own experience of being continually received by my love. No questions asked, I am embraced fully and in a heartbeat I am swept away into filial bliss. Greater happiness is unimaginable, as my love and I are exploring new roads together.

Predicting the future is fruitless, as a formidable plan is often broken by the rules of love and life. I know, however, that some bonds of friendship and love will remain indefinitely unbroken, and these are the ties that bind me to a life full of joy. A my ship sets sail I will travel with another; on the open water will our journey take us, leading us ever onward to the glorious unknown.

"As concerning my friends and kinsfolk," quoth he, "[I am not concerned] greatly for them. For I think i have sufficiently done my part towards them already. For these things that other men do not depart from until they be old and sick, yea, which they be then very loath to leave when they can no longer keep, those very same things did I, being not only [vigorous] and in good health but also in the flower of my youth, divide among my friends and kinsfolk. Which I think with this my liberality ought to hold them contented, and not to require nor to look that besides this I should for their sakes give myself in bondage unto kings."

-Utopia, Book I

a screenplay is comes to life, film reels are rolling
a man appears in the picture and sings his opening number
his tune is love, his love for her, and her love for him
at least hopefully it was love, perhaps just appreciation

the lines are read, and there are lines to read between
other longings, other feelings are uncovered; none of it is new
the truth of guises is made manifest, and the wolves now hunt
but in the end, simple existence is the killer, for blase is toxic

and the rattling from the expired footage goes on
flashes of black and white are all that remain of the symphony
there is no curtain call; there is no bow
for this show ended not even with a whimper, but a final breath

Some thoughts on an art...
I was recently pondering one of the arts that I practice and an interesting thought occurred to me: Sometimes, the inspiration that I so desperately need simply refuses to lend its supporting hand. There is nothing that any human can do about this dilemma--that's for sure. But maybe my real problem is that I am seeking a being called inspiration, rather than the One who truly knows me.