Monday, November 12, 2007

Light on "love"

Many men have stepped into the light, the hot, bright spot light of my love, shining singly onto them. It has the ability, as it should, to lift all the best attributes he may or may not posses, and bring them to the surface, from far beneath. It can penetrate so powerfully, taking over all the little slights and mistakes he has grown into.
Without his own doing this light creates what it is I want to see, at least in that very moment, not needing his approval nor his intentions.

Some men have tried mirrors. Tried to shine the light back, to see if I can play at my own game, and I can. I absorb the light, reconstruct it regaining power like the eye of a reflective storm and sting ray back at him in fifty different directions, piercing all the half-truths and idealisms he believed he could stand on, when basking in her light, he saw his best self. Mere image projected, not reality.

Some men dodge the light swaying and bending backwards to seem aloof and uncouth to the surge it causes, the longing he possesses to be within inches of her, to be inside her, to be seen as she sees him. But this also fails to defeat the light, I can change the lights direction in a matter of letters, words, looks. It is futile in attempt to dodge, and frankly is the making, the contents of my existence, thereby totally prey to demise.

When the interest is gone, when the light of my love proves, as it always has, that its subject is not the creation of my minds wildest and most passionate frames, that is when the light moves. It can go left, to right, forward or behind, in its single ring of deception. Deceiving all and not its source, the truth is unavailable to be hidden. Men are human, and human is all the things the light tries to hide.

Many men have stepped into the light, the hot bright spot light of my love. And many, but not all have failed to stay standing, under its rays. Many have not lured me to come into the shot, but one man, who’s intentions and persistence were pure. The one man who knew that light can bend, and light can be absorbed quietly without revelation. He, the one who holds my hand now, has the light…the light of my love in his hand.

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