by Aurora Matahari Hathor Raiment I
& G. Bennett Ulrich
Early
1999
I am in love with someone I have not yet met.
I am in love with someone who has not yet met me.
And when I hear his
voice,
I think I should know right then
who he is,
the other half.
There needs to be a full
half for him to come to first,
And if you are too busy
searching you'll never be full.
I believe I'll quit
the
quest and live life to the fullest,
Is it OK if I merely
keep my eyes open?
Everyone wants the best
that
they can get,
Whether it comes before
or after their wedding day.
No one ever shuts their
eyes, except to die, but they may squint
a little to keep the
blinding
light of "What if"
from burning out their eyes.
I think when I give my
heart, I will not look away.
I want one man to cherish
and he will make me stay.
Even in the face of "The
One?"
Aren't you just saying
you'll
settle
for Mr. Right-Now until
Mr. Right comes along? Well,
maybe he has, and you just
don't know it because
you'll never close your
eyes.
I don't like to
imagine
that I would settle for anything--
Maybe you are
right...Now,
Mister.
So, will I drop your
friendship like a sack of kittens in a well
when (or if) he, "The
One," should suddenly appear?
The question is not
whether
you will drop the friendship for the man, but whether
you will let the friend
woo you as a man.
You're not a man--I
mean,
you are a Man, in every sense of the word, but not
"The" man. Wouldn't I
know already? And the word "wooed"
leaves me feeling ill,
lurid thoughts of past suitors "wooing" other girls...
That's just it, you seem
to have settled upon this "I'll know him when I see him"
notion long ago--and so
you stopped actively looking for compatibility
and mutual respect as traits
of One-ness. You have blind faith
that this perfect stranger
will walk up to you and say, "Aren't you my wife?"
When you leave the real
guy standing at the altar making excuses to all your guests.
I was trying to change
the subject,
my way of thinking makes
it simple--there's not a lot of work on my part, no risk,
see the simplicity?
100% or nothing,
I am burnt from this
"Let's try building and working" toaster of relations.
Do you believe that Mr.
Perfection is going to ring my doorbell, and say,
"Excuse me, but I love
you--I found you from a dream."
Only in fairy tales and
Brendan Fraser films does that ever happen, and
I'm not lucky enough
to wake up Disney.
If mothers looked for
perfect
sons they'd curse out all their daughters--
if sailors sought out
perfect
shores, they'd despise the ocean waters.
Blackjack dealers would
play to bust or make their twenty-one--
so why must you play
roulette
with a fully loaded gun?
I'm not emotionally
mature
enough to handle "The One."
I'm buying some
time.
I'm pretending to pine! Ask any man
who's served as my canoe,
if I didn't stand and
flail about and scream, "Oh, what to do!"
I'd flip the boat and
swim away to leave it sinking fast.
That's quite a legacy
you've
amassed,
well, I can swim--I know
the stroke, I can splash about.
So I will settle for this
game--I'm too much the eager lout.
Do you strive to
match
my stroke?
Or hurry to some other
shore?
Your forestay's twisted
from the mast,
and sails discolored
from your past.
I am your match, don't
you
see?
Why don't you just cling
to me?
I'm not the clinging
type--and
what is all this match-made hype?
If we were a book of
flaming sticks, would I continue to resist?
You would, and do--but
that is hardly news to you.
Right...and so, I'd like to know, where do you think this will ever go?
I like the place it's at
right now
--that place that's filled
with "Great!" and "Wow!"
What's the rush to label
time,
it's harmony that makes
the rhyme.
Stop and sing with me
and joy will bring us to
the sea.
I like the salt. I crave the sand, but think I'd rather stay inland.
You may try to run from
passion's
tide,
but it affords no place
to hide.
Face its force full on and
see
if you can swim around with
me.
What if I'm not in the
mood for getting wet? Maybe I'd like to go climb
in the mountains,
crunching
on an apple and savoring the pages of some mystery.
There is no greater
mystery
than Love, and apples were sent to test our will.
I think of sin--it gives
me chills, but comfort comes from high above.
The raft of joy on sea of
bliss
was shown to me, and shown as this:
Give yourself a chance to care
and joy will take you everywhere.
You will not give
up!
I am not Eve though you seem as complex as an Atom--
and as simple--three
parts I see:
at your nucleus is Love,
but Logic and Desire
spin around your core
causing friction and static in your brain.
Your tunnel-vision
principles
seem direly insane.
It is you who will not
give
up. You speak to me of what you need. And yet we still
stand here and bleed.
We all want fantasy romance, but don't discard your first
real chance. If it don't
work out then hey! At least we tried, so who's to say?
I don't want to try.
I have four years until
I am as mature as you are, and I can throw fits, or quit,
I don't have to pull
down my pants and show you my logic. I don't want to debate
the matter of why I don't
want to, the fact that we are having this conversation
says something about
who we are, don't you think?
I intertwine passionately
where there is chemistry,
you and I have chemistry,
but a different kind.
That childhood brand
of koolaid stain chemistry. I could tell you anything,
I just don't need to
say it two inches away.
You underestimate
yourself.
And overestimate me. I think that we are much more
in synch.
We like to play.
What's more to say?
You right, we do, and
are the same,
but no love I've known
starts out with games.
Reprinted with permission of authors
2003 Death House Press