The Theory of Many Selves II

He basked in the gaze of his eyes. Completeness was his gift. The very best. It is that power which makes the song too slow or too fast. I grow confused. He reads my mind and stretches for the perspiring glass. It is cold and tastes as only water can beautiful and so vaguely alive. I look at him in wonder. How is it so that perfection is the only thing we want but once?

We make love once more and this time it is pretty, sticky, warm and cool at the right bits. It’s like tea sweet and then comes the flood of tannin. Perhaps all that we need is a bit of sweetness and a lot of kindness. This is hard for it’s so much easier to scream and yell and use sarcasm and long - unkind words and stupid mean looks of which we seem to be so proud of. Can it be the human race think this is living? If so it is indeed foolish, for we as a species are renowned for only one thing, that quality called humanity.

My, no his breath comes in short gasps. My hand clasps his. We are beautiful. Naked by the starlight of the star called the sun. Mock me once more and I will teach your children kindness. And thereafter you will forever be taunted by your haunting memories of this one moment, a moment that will come to define your life. Would you want this, I wonder? Perhaps that is why we gift, a symbol of all our love and all our apologies for not telling you or is it I that we love you.

So here I go.

You love I.

Stranger

" For all the history of grief ,  An empty doorway and a maple leaf. "
                                                         - Archibald Macleish

I cried.
He died. What the fuck ? Why must you ask what he does. Why must you push into my head that that is gone. Baba I miss you.
Do you know why because you understood that you would not understand me. I am happy now. So you see, c'est la vie.
I do not forget easily. I remember you.
Abar esho ( Come again ).

the theory of Wisdom

I listen to you with open ear but not with an open mind.
Why on earth should I ?
My mind is my own. It is mine to sculpt. You think magic exists. Semantics sucks but the point is just how one must show 1 is 1 in theoretical calculus so to you must define what you take the word to mean before dropping it in my head.
So choose wisely.

Bombay

Dear I,
              Today is the last day i lie inert. I am change. I assert this.
Being emphatic is important but what is more nice is actually doing it.
I am changing my sleep pattern, my friends, my diet, my songs.
People always take change to be deductive.
               In truth it is additive.
So I am changing. I grow a little every minute, perhaps seconds.
This is divine. This is the truth.
I smile at myself now.
A little wiser.
                                                               Love,
                                                                  R


How Has It Come To This ?

Dear I,
              Today I did the hardest thing ever. Today I renounced credit. I refused, in absolute, the attachment of an activity, a thought, a word, an essay or any thing else with my name, or what we imply by saying our name, that is our self our identity call it what you will.
It is time to come out, come out in the open, to reveal. We can be open yet subtle but we should not hide behind these treacherous words. They cannot convey truly what we wish to say what we feel. I love you, I love this and I love that. Where is the difference ?
Are we supposed to see the subject ? The predicate ?
This shall not be.
It can not be.
                                                             In tears,
                                                                  R

The Theory of Many Selves

As he stood in the midst of the mild sunlight with the crowd streaming around him or him around them, he made the jump into the deeper recesses of his self. As he traversed into himself he caught hold of him, the five year old boy who tormented him in his mind. He entered his uncontrolled floating thoughts and devoured his satisfaction his sanity his … my rationality. I’m confused where he ends and I begin but of this much I am sure, that boy is not me estranged by whatsoever it maybe. He flies down to him... me.

The landscape is beautiful. It is the green of faded memory. There is moist blue and above all else the blazing sun in a clear sky-blue sky. The earth is brown but compact and has a gravelly texture.
I am in love.

 This much I know I … we all love ourselves beyond all else. As he stepped on the earth barefooted the muted thud travelled through my ear and by the synapses that connect body to mind entered my brain igniting a storm. The tears sprang down my … his cheeks. I made for him and gently clasped his hand in mine. Truly I hate this the pain that we cause to our self t'is most unbearable as it is enduring.

I am sorry said I to I.

I … he smiled. After all these years I have finally forgiven myself.

15 BI

Dear I,
              it has been 4 years since i met you. I knew i wanted to know you at the time i met you. 1 week later we were friends and ever since then we have trudged along the hierarchy called friendship. Now there you stand outside the pyramid smiling softly to all those within it. A world apart we reside in, you and I.
We sit on the swing staring at the world with unseeing eyes. We instead imagine the architecture of our minds.
Being with you is like being in a closed room with a single window with very thick curtains peeking through it to see the sunlight outside. The sunlight is clear slightly pinkish, clearly a rising sun. It is cool outside. You know you can open the window but you hold back because you know you have all the time in the world.
Yes, we shall never separate but neither are we one ; for where is the joy in That ? No we are distinct , symbiotic. Yes that's about right. We look at things and sometimes see light and sometimes dark but it is the many shades of grey which bonds us, connects us and therein lies our hope for a friendship that is as eternal.
There is more to write but it is still 15 BI
                                                                   Love R
PS : BI Before Isha