Our culture, and several within the west’s immediate influence celebrate the joining of two souls by the course of marriage. It doesn’t seem to be working in the same way it used to function. I think that is one part religion, one part societal expectation (arranged marriages are rare in our culture), so there are more choices.
Nonetheless, my first and quick to fail marriage was a bit unexpected for me. The signs were there, but I thought at the time it was a rocky patch. Little did I know, the expectations of having someone in your life for the rest of it completely changes your world perspective. The daily becomes rare, and memories continue to manifest and soon all the tender future memories made burst into ether
The the song Break Away by Bonobo played, it was so strage hearing Rhye sing “you’re my favorite”
I remember her smell and texture, those very same words entering my head, and me agreeing with that, that she was my favorite. It seemed so certain in that moment, so real and true. And the truth is that
Nothing is permanent. Time is a ruler. Money is the fourth dimension. Our own words bind is to the understanding, which is relative to our binding.
I remember hearing the song
“you’re my favorite.”
you were my favorite.
I thought you there for the rest of my life
in a moment those thoughts took flight
and into the stratosphere
a place I once lingered with you there,
they popped under pressure
the night was over.
You were the first I fully loved and only
loved while at the same time.
I became bitter to know better
for how worse the world was.
I wanted your happiness,
but I was not ready for your
understanding of bliss.
You took off and away just before the gold of my mine
could shine in sublime.
You were my favorite. Why are you not my favorite?
It’s so painful these thoughts, the memories you’re making
but without me and not, with me, lingering strong
and fully, help on to a compulsion to make the world write
you were my favorite. Are you still my favorite?
A question I’ve feared to ask and I not know why,
is it because I fear you are not
or I fear that you are…
I know that I love you,
because I learned to love everything.
I know I think fondly of you,
because you are a certain kind of light in my eyes.
Not everything is that light,
most things were never my favorite.
In that faintest of lights, there is still light
a photon perhaps, or a misdemeanor
missed you meaning or I’m just a fool
falling down the mountainside.
I lost my art
and found my heart
I lost my soul
and found the toll
is not the rhythm
just the chasm
the place where things meet
and that point
to which there is no
we turn into
and together again
blueberries in the sun
mass production in the rain
superstition from whence it came.
Can I give that much again?
or should I save it for when I’m dead?
perhaps I’ll breathe it deep, instead
or translate it with rulers and what’s said
but the truth is the truth is elusive
and the only way to track it is to lose it.
(That he said, she said bull shit.)
let it go like trees drop pine cones
on the way to enlightened.