„The need to immerse your entire being into that specific and special something. Conquering it. Making it yours. Found entranced by the letting go in. Inside that white bound beauty of what, first blinding, is now leading: the mighty soul. Depersonalized by grammar, left to be expressed by it. It is. Life is it.
There is a sort of sad funniness in how the all sometimes unfolds itself. Those tear like flakes which have the given power to shake everything at its core. The tears one has to survive merely through hope. Hope that all which was best, might come again. Hope that everything will be better. For it must, what point in time would life have otherwise?
But what is everything? Why do you, me and the rest like us keep fighting for the finding of light. Another day. Is there another way in this hell like state of mind? A question marked unanswered, truly, or might I underline, truthfully. Dot, before a grammatical double ‘l’. Yes, another chase in thoughts. I have been told I tend to shift swiftly. Maddening you may think. Yet, though we might say to ourselves that we live through words and ideas, actually that’s just breaking the surface. There is only so much words can express. All that complicated punctuation is what in truth paves the road we are on, or makes us choose one over the other. One could have all the right words. Even new ones, or old ones in new clothes. But, after checking the spelling, comma comes. Be it as an excuse to let someone go, or an incentive in keeping that same someone in. An entire world gained, or lost. And it took only a flip in perception, or what I might call the comma in of the future out.
Would the stanza you be whole without the punctuation you add, at times without even thinking. We tend to over think words, yet so naturally feel where and how a comma can complete or enhance whatever it is that we hold in. Much like mind over the turbulent waters of the heart. So much insecurity inside perceiving that beating punctuation, while logic and certainty floods our entire life when neurologically satisfied. Is it that we just cannot help ourselves enough to overcome the lack of the right words, or a punctuation error? Are we that lost of a cause in this chaotically set life esteem?
Which one is the best of words, or just the right amount of commas in? A clear paragraph, or one who takes you where your mind has not imagined? I could have used dots instead of questions marked. I could have written more to the point, not jogg around buildings of thoughts. But, in my defense, there are a few things I cannot escape. One is myself. Be it present, past or future. I am my only lifelong companion. I am bound to give through me. I am both chained by perception and freed by giving. A payer of dues and survivor of the elements. I am my own. Why has this lost its privilege. Why have we forgotten the fall in heart which took us so high? Why has life revoked its lust and choked us with defeat. I refuse to see and use this pain giving truth. I choose to gently pull each chord at midnight in the hope that it might not turn my carriage into a pumpkin. Helplessly wishing for beauty and all the joy it brought and could still bring.
Just stand still in my stanza for five words. And look up every word which shines for you. I try. I always try to light up the sky. Like some sort of unnamed scientist who first dreams of the impossible then, through trial and error tries both tested and untested ways of attaining it.
Sometimes, the future is gained by going back to where it all started. The heart. Ever ours.” – Alexandra Cel Mare-Irimie (photo credit © collaged par BILLYLee)