anti_

For whatever reason, a proper happiness has yet to roost here.

Oh afternoon of my life!
It used to be that happiness was descending to the valley, that I might seek solace in whatever open, hospitable soul I could seduce.

Oh afternoon of my life!
What did I not sacrifice that I might have this garden in which to tend my thoughts, and this dawn of my highest hope?

I do seek a companion, but if fate fails to place her in my path, I must resist the will to create one. Too long have I tried to burden others with my expectations.

Thus am I in the midst of my work, to create myself again in the image of my own ideal. This man's heart has been one of a child, in that a child only loves his own work. This will not do. Soon I will be honorable to a true companion, a fellow-creator and fellow-enjoyer of beauty. One who I would welcome at my table and not just in my bed, for the fuller perfection of all things. For her sake and for the sake of my humanity, must I refine myself. Resist my selfish comfort, and present myself to every misfortune, as my final testing and recognition.

Now is the time that I must fade away and let that wanderer's shadow bear the longest tedium and the stillest hour, while consoling myself with the idea that this is the highest time. Too long I lay enchanted with my own delusions. My own desire for love spread this snare for me, so that I fell prey to it. Desire. I have lost myself to you for the last time. This desire to possess is not that honest love. In possessing, everything is assurance and nothing is love.

How painful this evolution of the soul, that I resist even my own thoughts, which I consider my art? I shall summon the strength to feel you being birthed and no longer tremble.

In rebellion, I long for frost and winter. "Let that old coldness possess me again" I sigh, and I produce an icy mist out of my chest. My past bursts forth from it's tomb, many pains buried alive arise to assault me, not fully subdued, they merely had been concealed in corpse clothes. "It is time.", they moan and my thoughts bite me, and my abyss moves.

In this antiquated ship I sail along on uncertain seas, chance does flatter me though, smooth-tongued chance. Is this the hour of my final struggle? Does it come to me perhaps... just... now? With insidious beauty this sea and this life gaze back upon me.

My heart throbs in my throat when I reflect upon you. Your muteness is like an eternity to me, but this is too much for one soul to bear. I have ventured to call you up, but not to create an ideal out of you. It should be enough that I carry you with me. As yet I have not displayed strength enough for my final lionhearted, wanton playfulness to assume form.

Oh afternoon of my life!
Oh happiness before evening tide!
Oh sanctuary on high seas!
Oh peace in uncertainty!
How I distrust all of you!

Distrustful am I of your seductive beauty! Like an experienced lover I distrust too sleek a smile. This brooding lays the shadow of the sun of my love upon me, and in brooding, the shadows and doubts fly past me. Away with this fearful hour! With you, there has come to me an involuntary bliss. Ready for that inevitable pain, I stand here unafraid. Away with doubt! I welcome a blissful hour! Rather harbor there, before evening tide, and share with you my happiness.

Happiness perhaps will chase after me?
Happiness pursued will always flee.
Happiness itself, is a woman.