Help
Sign In
journal
September 2008 
( )
Posted on Mar 28th, 2008
by 
Loh El
Loh El
So lately I've been keeping a written journal...
It's been a long time. pages are filled of years with regret and deep learning. What distortion of breath could justly describe the transformation taken place?
Je suis la papillon, j'y fait un metamorphe lorsque mes ailles s'ouvrent.
I have become something altogether deeply in and wholly outside of me. I am eclipsed by myself, and I am the sun.
Who am I? What.
Who am I without you? My Other, my One. And now I speak of absolutes; of the EVERY- and ONE- ness of NOTHING-ness; and I speak also of a girl--is it hollow, shallow, lowly, weak of me? O great Infinite Radiant Is, O Sun of God?--she is to me a ray of light and joy in a dark, cavernous world.
She is the sun, the stars, the bright full moon; I am the humble grass, the reverent angel's trumpet, the climbing of the tide.
Life has changed, life has stayed the same.
Life has changed, I have stayed the same.
Life is the same, I have changed.
O Infinite Radiant Is, if it be thy will, allow me to raise out of obscurity among my kin and manifest thy spirit wholly into our civilization, for ye are as deep and powerful as the absolute darkness of space, ye are as shining and beautiful as the ray of light, ye are without let, without want.
I can see all the wears in your face as you sleep
And all of those things you have done, and all that you think has gone wrong, in my arms, now is gone.
I can feel your short shallow breath against my neck--so sweet
All of the things I have done, all that for which I may long rests now in my arms
No, don't go, I'm not ready to be alone, dressed to the bone for all to see
All that which I have been, and all of that which I am, in your wake, castles of sand.
I can see dusk is settling in and though I
want for all, he will take you tonight
Oh, just GO! I'm not done yet being alone, all alone, deep in the throws of love with no one to take care of;
It's not enough, it's not enough
And I can feel the infinite distance between lovers and friends and I can see the end...
Oh Lord, take me home! Naked and undone, alone and all one. I'll remember you...
All of the things that you've done, all that you think has gone wrong, all you believe and dream of;
I am in love and I will forget the empty space.
Life goes on. I am moving on.
Life has no beginning or end. I live to die.
Life is change. I am unchanging.
Life is unchanging. I am chaos.
I miss the friends who knew me but were afraid to love me. I miss the lovers who loved me but were afraid to know me.
I miss the absolutist dictatorship that young love enforces on the heart. All black holes reincarnate as small stars. Wounds become scars and scars become skin. War is a fragmentary, misguided, short-sighted hunger for that which we, together, have found.
I pull the drink away from my lips,
the ice clinking against empty glass.
A hand is on my back.
"Would you like another one?"
She was good.
I nod my head, without really knowing.
Has my learned assumption--that of having to work and intend for dreams and miracles to appear--created my life? Was I at fault for happening upon my life before creating it? Am I at fault for creating my world as I know it now?
Of course I am!
Decide young fool, what do you value higher? Life as you know it or union with the Other?
And what is truly the difference?
Unite the soul of both young fool, find the balance.
You are weak, an egg in an abandoned nest.
You are strong, an egg in an abandoned nest. You will fly.
She is crying in the middle of a restaurant at a table of friends. Condolensces and napkins are her offering. She sniffles incessantly. I want to comfort her, hold her, listen to her story and smile all the way through. Would that we lived in the same universe.
I cherish every memory, love every moment. I am the sun.
She has returned with purple flowers and little has changed. She has changed and I have changed, a little, but have WE? We, people, like all things, change, it is an inevitability of our reality. But I feel WE resist this flow while at the same time SHE and I are diving in.
But my love wants for Atlantic waters and I for the Pacific. May we meet soon in some trickle of a ravine and feel each other laced for miles about rocks and mosses and snails and birds.
We were on the locks; the passengers were leaving. Some of them laughed, some of them smiled, some of them simply watched shamelessly.
We didn't care, we were in Eden's garden and all that grew there was a few trees, grass, ancient stone barricades and our warm joyful love.
I miss the locks, the parks, the basements. I miss her body on top of me, lying, not posing, or pouncing with no feline--but entirely female--pretenses. We were insatiable, and still totally at ease, at peace, in some strange surreal way.
Now, satiated it seems, we have given away innumerable sacred pleasures.
Oh Infinite Radiant Is, if it be they will, open the floodgates of truth and allow our lives to bloom open in full sun, that we may grow ever closer.
I Am That I Am
Thou Art That I Am
We Are That I Am
Yes.
Times change. Time is change. I define myself along the lines in your face and in your mind. I am defined as the "other" and you are defined as the "I"; just as the reflection is defined by grace of a mirror; just as our bodies and languages are the ripples in the clear pond that reflect what swims below and what bubbles up or breaks into the water.
What do I see, looking in? Where are those eyes? Where are you?
I see the wall, cold obfuscating brick.
There are none of the open eyes, open arms, open wombs and open hearts that I fell in love with in this mirror.
It is dark and I am near the Pacific shore, on the beach, chasing ghost crabs across the pebbles and sand. I am chasing them, as I have been told, to catch them.
The old ones follow and encourage the little ones, carrying buckets. When we catch one; its claws up and its eyes suddenly invisible; its legs flailing as we hold it by the pointy edges of its shell, it is thrown into the bucket where it cannot escape. The chase is over.
The old ones are proud of us and we are not sure why because as fun and as lovely as the chase was we know they will all be let go and become ghosts again, and we will continue the chase until we wonder why we charge through the beach with these buckets and want for the touch of the ocean and some creature not hard-shelled and scuttling to avoid our open hands.
I've been sleeping in epilepsy
Sweating and cold, I am waiting for anybody to call me home.
I am travelling the rails at night
Watching for trains, hiding my eyes in the dark of the bridge.
And I find the faces that pass me by,
Like brothers and sisters on the same path as I.
And when I wake up again,
and you're by the door,
I am sinking through water to the ocean floor
And the train's in the water,
I'm sailing away
I am coming my lover
I am coming to stay
It's been a long time. pages are filled of years with regret and deep learning. What distortion of breath could justly describe the transformation taken place?
Je suis la papillon, j'y fait un metamorphe lorsque mes ailles s'ouvrent.
I have become something altogether deeply in and wholly outside of me. I am eclipsed by myself, and I am the sun.
Who am I? What.
Who am I without you? My Other, my One. And now I speak of absolutes; of the EVERY- and ONE- ness of NOTHING-ness; and I speak also of a girl--is it hollow, shallow, lowly, weak of me? O great Infinite Radiant Is, O Sun of God?--she is to me a ray of light and joy in a dark, cavernous world.
She is the sun, the stars, the bright full moon; I am the humble grass, the reverent angel's trumpet, the climbing of the tide.
Life has changed, life has stayed the same.
Life has changed, I have stayed the same.
Life is the same, I have changed.
O Infinite Radiant Is, if it be thy will, allow me to raise out of obscurity among my kin and manifest thy spirit wholly into our civilization, for ye are as deep and powerful as the absolute darkness of space, ye are as shining and beautiful as the ray of light, ye are without let, without want.
I can see all the wears in your face as you sleep
And all of those things you have done, and all that you think has gone wrong, in my arms, now is gone.
I can feel your short shallow breath against my neck--so sweet
All of the things I have done, all that for which I may long rests now in my arms
No, don't go, I'm not ready to be alone, dressed to the bone for all to see
All that which I have been, and all of that which I am, in your wake, castles of sand.
I can see dusk is settling in and though I
want for all, he will take you tonight
Oh, just GO! I'm not done yet being alone, all alone, deep in the throws of love with no one to take care of;
It's not enough, it's not enough
And I can feel the infinite distance between lovers and friends and I can see the end...
Oh Lord, take me home! Naked and undone, alone and all one. I'll remember you...
All of the things that you've done, all that you think has gone wrong, all you believe and dream of;
I am in love and I will forget the empty space.
Life goes on. I am moving on.
Life has no beginning or end. I live to die.
Life is change. I am unchanging.
Life is unchanging. I am chaos.
I miss the friends who knew me but were afraid to love me. I miss the lovers who loved me but were afraid to know me.
I miss the absolutist dictatorship that young love enforces on the heart. All black holes reincarnate as small stars. Wounds become scars and scars become skin. War is a fragmentary, misguided, short-sighted hunger for that which we, together, have found.
I pull the drink away from my lips,
the ice clinking against empty glass.
A hand is on my back.
"Would you like another one?"
She was good.
I nod my head, without really knowing.
Has my learned assumption--that of having to work and intend for dreams and miracles to appear--created my life? Was I at fault for happening upon my life before creating it? Am I at fault for creating my world as I know it now?
Of course I am!
Decide young fool, what do you value higher? Life as you know it or union with the Other?
And what is truly the difference?
Unite the soul of both young fool, find the balance.
You are weak, an egg in an abandoned nest.
You are strong, an egg in an abandoned nest. You will fly.
She is crying in the middle of a restaurant at a table of friends. Condolensces and napkins are her offering. She sniffles incessantly. I want to comfort her, hold her, listen to her story and smile all the way through. Would that we lived in the same universe.
I cherish every memory, love every moment. I am the sun.
She has returned with purple flowers and little has changed. She has changed and I have changed, a little, but have WE? We, people, like all things, change, it is an inevitability of our reality. But I feel WE resist this flow while at the same time SHE and I are diving in.
But my love wants for Atlantic waters and I for the Pacific. May we meet soon in some trickle of a ravine and feel each other laced for miles about rocks and mosses and snails and birds.
We were on the locks; the passengers were leaving. Some of them laughed, some of them smiled, some of them simply watched shamelessly.
We didn't care, we were in Eden's garden and all that grew there was a few trees, grass, ancient stone barricades and our warm joyful love.
I miss the locks, the parks, the basements. I miss her body on top of me, lying, not posing, or pouncing with no feline--but entirely female--pretenses. We were insatiable, and still totally at ease, at peace, in some strange surreal way.
Now, satiated it seems, we have given away innumerable sacred pleasures.
Oh Infinite Radiant Is, if it be they will, open the floodgates of truth and allow our lives to bloom open in full sun, that we may grow ever closer.
I Am That I Am
Thou Art That I Am
We Are That I Am
Yes.
Times change. Time is change. I define myself along the lines in your face and in your mind. I am defined as the "other" and you are defined as the "I"; just as the reflection is defined by grace of a mirror; just as our bodies and languages are the ripples in the clear pond that reflect what swims below and what bubbles up or breaks into the water.
What do I see, looking in? Where are those eyes? Where are you?
I see the wall, cold obfuscating brick.
There are none of the open eyes, open arms, open wombs and open hearts that I fell in love with in this mirror.
It is dark and I am near the Pacific shore, on the beach, chasing ghost crabs across the pebbles and sand. I am chasing them, as I have been told, to catch them.
The old ones follow and encourage the little ones, carrying buckets. When we catch one; its claws up and its eyes suddenly invisible; its legs flailing as we hold it by the pointy edges of its shell, it is thrown into the bucket where it cannot escape. The chase is over.
The old ones are proud of us and we are not sure why because as fun and as lovely as the chase was we know they will all be let go and become ghosts again, and we will continue the chase until we wonder why we charge through the beach with these buckets and want for the touch of the ocean and some creature not hard-shelled and scuttling to avoid our open hands.
I've been sleeping in epilepsy
Sweating and cold, I am waiting for anybody to call me home.
I am travelling the rails at night
Watching for trains, hiding my eyes in the dark of the bridge.
And I find the faces that pass me by,
Like brothers and sisters on the same path as I.
And when I wake up again,
and you're by the door,
I am sinking through water to the ocean floor
And the train's in the water,
I'm sailing away
I am coming my lover
I am coming to stay
Access: PublicTagged with: journal
