Myriad

Who could say what was going through his mind?
It wasn't as though he'd ever mentioned wanting to do something like that. In fact it wasn't as thought he'd ever mentioned anything. Ever.
He was the epitome of he "silent type".

Not a mute.
No.
He had been heard to speak. But that was like saying George Bush occasionally said something clever.

So you can imagine, that hearing him sing, was something of a shock.
And what a voice!

Joe behind the bar was so shocked that he shattered over $100.00 worth of Scotland's finest.

Seventeen years he'd been going in there.
Never had he even had a conversation with anyone.

So what brought him to this? What possible force of nature had moved this silent mountain?
What else?

A woman.

The mind is a wonderful, incredible, terribly complicated system.
His mind was no different.
The place that song came from was a dark cul-de-sac in his brain. A dark part of town he rarely visited, which ironically for him, was a happy place.

And he was smiling as he sang.
Smiling!
Avian swine indeed!

The woman?
She was a beauty of the most ancient kind. The kind that was once found gathering nature's bounty with naught but a small strip of animal hide to protect her from those uncomfortable nicks and scraps that could make life more than uncomfortable.

She seemed out of place, that much was certain.
But then so did he.

Out of place.
Out of time.
Neither of them fit, except with each other.
Hence the song.

His voice poured out joy in a way that made it seem like a foreign language.
A body and soul so unused to bliss that this ultimate release was almost a birth. Pain and joy, intertwined.
Lacubrious joy and ingrained suffering standing together on that small karaoke stage, singing a love song to his beloved.

The governor of his heart had opened the gates on that long incarcerated part of his soul. The inmates now had complete charge of the asylum.

Several of the bar patrons had become transfixed by his performance. An almost evangelical outpouring that had them enthralled.He was, indeed, testifying, before all of creation.

The chatter had ceased. The only thing that could be heard was his song.
Or was it her song?
Some wondered, but her knew.
It was her song.
For her.
Everything for her.

“you should write a blog about your undying love for me”

You said it in jest. But it got me thinking. About love. About you. About me.

I think I know how you would want to be loved.

You would want me to love you like the world is ending. Undying love, as it were.

Well the world isn’t ending. At least not in our foreseeable future. And all love dies. Eventually.

If there’s no-one to love or be loved, then there can be no love.

But this says nothing about you and I.

Me and you.

You.

You are amazing and I feel honored to know you.

I do love you. But I don’t think it’s in the way you imagine it in your head. The romantic fantasy is a difficult beast to kill. It’s right up there with Jesus and ghosts in the bullshit theories that have no basis in reality category.

Don’t get me wrong. Love is real. But the Hallmark version of love that grips this western capitalist society of ours is bullshit.

Love is the basis of all our deepest and most valued relationships.

My relationship with you is something I value. I think more than I could ever possibly describe in words.

I love you, in a way that suits me just fine. So there.