(In which I wallow in this “perfect” combination.)
***
Not being able to finish an art fiction or start an art work in lieu of the most important phone calls is something I won’t consider as a heavy sacrifice. Not even a sacrifice. I do what I choose with someone I chose to be with. We don’t look at things as troubles when they make us smile – happy even. Yes, they're not sacrifices. They're blessings. For when you finally found yourself willing to give up the little things you like for something big – for that thing that you love, it’s a blessing. Life has taken a new course and you’re on your way to completion. In my purview. But my big things and blessings always come with sacrifices. Oh! The irony of happiness! And what sacrifices? To tire of being stationary and immobile. To hate one's self for being impatient. To resist illogical reasons and childish demands. To suppress urgency and restlessness. To set aside selfishness and conventions. To wait.
Yes, waiting. And what is more torturing that the silent and slow brushing of time against one’s stillness? What is more puzzling than the ignorance of tomorrow made more complicated by fateful surprises? What feeling is more enigmatic than the emotional outbursts that contrast each other when we wait? Oh, please, let the waiting end.
Verses by Funandfearless: Cycle
Butterflies
fluttering and dancing
in my stomach;
An intensified waltz
day after day.
Music
ringing and humming
in my ears;
Higher elation
minute by minute.
Heartbeats
rushing and pulsing,
racing;
heavier thumps
as the clock strikes time.
Tick . . . tock . . .
Tick . . . tock . . .
Then
Once . . .
Twice . . .
Thrice . . .
And it starts
all over
again.
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