Young Waldo comes of age, packed with ideals and oats, spends a decade on love’s battlefield, confronts the sinister edifice of romantic indifference and torpitude gone viral, goes back to the drawing board and resolves to double-down on his humanity, his mantra: “yes”…
It is absolutely impossible to do certain spiritual exercises if you are habituated to an alarm clock. That most insidious of imaginary necessities. And that’s all I am going to say about it…
Every year he comes briefly and faithful like wild violets, 8 or 9 seasons now, long as I defy the clock and occupy astounded this abode. It’s not true, how things seem, that he projects staunch solitude and won’t converse. But you must approach with reverence for nature, and show you’ve learnt how human natures all command respect. Else most you’ll get is a tipped forehead and good day.
Romance needs some help this Spring in the northern hemisphere. Reflections upon romantic infatuation (1) -today- via a dialogue in haikus (bad idea from the getgo), and (2) -tomorrow- via philosophical musings verging on the esoteric (perhaps worse)…
Advisory messages heard at the edge of an early spring’s rushing mountian stream, swollen and forceful with surging transformed snowmelt… Tell of what you’ve seen and know, living waters!
Feelings around a pastiche of past and future romances part real, part imagination, part beyond truth or falsity.
Behind almost all human effort: an immeasurable primordial urge for union. But how to understand this urge? You can know things, as in successfully exhibiting the capacity to perceive their truth. Yet, a good dose of more life experiences may still comprise your destiny so as to cement the wisdom.
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 