We Crave the Beauty :: of learning to uncover + discover a woman's own love... in expanding past
- azhaa says we crave beauty
- Jul 26, 2017
- 4 min read
a poetic rambling for the displaced heart of the woman wanderer
once upon a confusing and enchanting time of multidimensionality
somewhere in a strange and almost eerily magical part of italy...
who may tell about the Beauty found within?
the Essential, the very Matter by which we
live and dream within this world
but we do know that we seek it
we do know we either join in by creating it
or curse ourselves from Her discovery
if in the act of living
we do so with cold, hard, dry-rot hearts
what good are our words
when we speak of that Some Thing which is
beyond all verbal meanderings?
by we try anyhow, for what else is there to do?
the grandness of the Exquisite sorrow
and the Ecstatic pleasure
demands to be experienced by us and through us
and we in turn press for ways to speak of
these states and turnings of Soul
to relate and transmit the depths, these mysteries
reflecting it all in some way_out into the world
for the development of our world
but i tell you -
i figured i would never Love
never even thought to love in the contextual sense...
until the moment when He said so earnestly;
(stradled by my body then and looking up at me in wonder)
"i crave your beauty!"
what?!
now how could i turn my heart away from
words like these?
(with my taurus sun, markedly ruled and literally
possessed by Venus)
a big kissy face fool prone to those very fantasies am i!
readily swindled, ever honey-suckled by the
romantic and achingly asinine admissions of
the dreamer
i long for such bogus yet blissful and bold
banterings of Soul
you know those words that at one point we all want
so desperately to hear and even more desperately
to believe and to know as the one Truth
whispers we wish to express and hope
to one day make our own_to one day claim as
our very own unfailing and faultlessly Sublime Reality
whether it be possible, probable, palpable, proper
no matter. heart wants it wants - devours at will
when it wants, as it pleases
the dream of its passions takes no prisoners
holds back its raging sea
for nothing and for no one
wrenching strongly its shiny collection of bits
that attract and lull it into rousing reveries
until the dear sweet Life of whatever it clings
to is sapped forever from its steely grasp
__((if you're liking this so far how about more?))__
as love lorn as you might see me pretend to be
i have no need at all for a heart in turmoil
my feeling space is clear, and this a hardwon blessing
(after an age of sacrificing and suffering
up of darkness and delusion)
all that remains is a pristine like crystal_reflecting All
any thing, any one, any matter that seeks to
cloud, distort, contort or in any way mar
that pointed refraction inside...
well, as ruthless as i am_i am always
ready and quite happy to bid so long and farewell
to what ever and whom ever it may be
so i left not long after, never to return
(there is no need in my heart to)
never to gaze into those deep, smiling eyes again
never to feel the warmest caress i had ever experienced
that i will forever recall with an abandoned longing
sighing deeply with satisfaction untold
dangerous...
and some part of me fantasized about
wanting to hear more of his lovely words
perversely wanting to hear
of his need of me, how he craved and adored me
that i must stay by his side now as always
that i must not to go, never leave
i hoped to have my desires molded by his words
my pleasures set to fire at his touch
ideas of togetherness spoken definitively
through those lips of his that intuitively knew
just when and how to hold and fold into my own
something in me...no! but a strange imagined part
of myself that i desired to be real.
to really be there, existing solely to fall into
some drunken dance of love and desire
of death and destruction...
no, not me! not me at all.
but even so, i found he would speak no more
as if sensing the levity behind the statements
i (pretended) to wait for him to make he became silent
refusing to give in to the irreality of our moments
of otherworldliness in the light of the un real world
of his straight and narrow. he preferred his
lines rules and methods to the craving of beauty
he admitted to in the nights, with the sun long set
and he safely from its harsh glare with moon risen
(but alas a scorpio moon, never one to let loose
their "control" stranflehold on emotion)
putting it clearly and saying things plainly
risking more than what one thinks to gain
leaving space for the other to express
her wants desires needs and longings
seeing love space as a play of entity
not as goal or an ends or a thing to be won
a situation of heart in which to handle,
manouever, push along, keep in line...
he could not not do all this.
and so i left__escaped from the land of
a jewel known as rome
flying high again in order to save the Sacredness
of my inner Discovery
to preserve the Mystery and mayhem-like madness
of our phenomenon
it was imperative to leave Him there
right there as i had found him
ambitious and desirous of taking over the world
(like as thoughts of his ancestors, romans roaming the world over plotting perverting plundering Beautyy
seeking to control Love)
you can take over. but love finds no way into
such a heart riddled of conquest.
and therefore in after the take over what have you got?
but who can speak of such things to others
who have not Known bliss
and we who have been born of them_the sweet surrenders
of self. the giving away of the turmoils that
rumble inside.
of this i will speak no more
and yet, of this i will always speak
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