The Truth, This Sadness, This Joy

As Conrad wrote:

“…my task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel – it is above all to make you see. That – and no more, and it is everything. If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm – all you demand – and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask…”

Preface, The Nigger of the Narcissus.

Sing to me Muse
once more
With your help I might, stepping carefully
avoid this abyss

Sing to me Muse of despair
My despair
My new and closest companion
now, my dearest love
A love that mocks as only a former lover can

Muse !
speak now, one last time
help me craft the words that will draw this pain and by drawing

Such a smile
I see it, knew it
once loved it
Now, mocking
You ? Loved me ? Fool !
My dear friend, close companion
new love
you at least will never leave me

Sing to me, Muse,
not of the travels of the Great Strategist,
but of what we had and lost
what could have been
what will not be.
Sing of my love
She, at least, will be close
She, at least, will never leave.

Such beauty, this Despair
such longing

We allow the love we think we deserve

11 January, 2014


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