Once upon a time, in a place not so far away as to have two "far's," but not close enough for you to have ever heard of it, two people fell in love. They were totally mad about each other and though there were often problems and doubts, love always came through.
They kept going and going, and thought everything was perfect, but because they were so young, they didn't see, or perhaps purposefully ignored, the many mistakes that they made. But they worked through problems on and on until eventually they lost track of everything, and it didn't work anymore. They stopped talking.
A song asks "When love has died, what more is there to say?" That's quite a scary question, and the guy was terrified every night, and sleepless, at that thought.
A while later, after they'd thoroughly tasted the bitterness of loneliness, they realized, through the many painful days, that love hadn't died. And they realized that they were more in love with each other than ever.
Up until then they'd still been quite young, but at that moment, they grew up.
With adulthood came responsibilities and they were entirely too busy for anything, especially each other. Because they so loved each other, they sacrificed much for one another, and eventually it started backfiring.
So, they decided that nothing on earth is important, except for love, and for a while they focused their all and gave everything for a relationship and were quite literally the happiest two people on earth.
Then, suddenly, as quickly as they fell in love, things fell apart again, for a reason or another, and she came to him and said, "I can't do this anymore, love; let me go."
After a momentary silence, so melancholic, so dark and resonant, he spoke...
"You don't love me?"
"I can't. My life's moving on, and we aren't."
"If you... change your mind, and want to love me, come here... I'll be waiting. If you come, don't say anything. Just kiss me. If I kiss you, you'll know I'll have you back."
Thus the lovers parted ways.
One day, after the seasons had changed hundreds of times, when the boy had become an old man and his beard had hidden his well-aged face, as he was outside on his daily wait for a return of the one he loved--since he'd never lost hope, and since that love had never died--her ghost appeared to him.
Coming near him, he was at first in disbelief... He tried to say her name, but the words wouldn't come out.
The silence was deafening as She went to kiss him, and he let her, but she was now a ghost; he could not kiss her, could not feel those incomparable lips, could not for the world grasp her.
With a voice sounding like the whispering wind, she said "I lived my whole life pretending to be happy, and sometimes I was, but I never completely fooled myself. And every day was a struggle, to stay away from you, to not think of you. But with every breath came a thought of you, and with every desire came a longing for you."
They both were crying.
"I waited for you here, like I told you. Each day I sang 'When love has died, what more is there to say?' to see if our love had died. I always thought, after I'd sung it, 'My, how I love her!'"
"I miss you. God, I miss you," the ghost whispered.
They sat in the sunlight, in a light breeze, and cried. After much lamentation, they started singing...
"Far away... you seem so far away,
But it was only yesterday
That you were oh, so close to me...
So close, that every sigh
Was like the whisper of a lover's lullaby
The way the ocean meets the edges of the sky
As close as we could be...
But now, you're far away,
So far away you're like a distant star away
And even though your hands
Could touch me if they tried
When love has died, what more is there to say?"

-Adonis

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“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

by Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles

That's amazing. I want to read this book.
Adonis

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Yes, you. Everyone else, sorry...

Whence cometh conflict, whence this strife?
So full of love, we kissed goodbye;
I never saw in all my life
A sweeter kiss, a greater lie.

Now: when we of all webs are clear,
Of confusion and pain and doubt,
Cometh The Spider, once so dear,
Snatching the trav'lers from their route.

This is an exaggeration, but writing is therapy. Forgive me for any disagreeableness. We are on the same page.

Adonis

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Ardent love. That's a good description of what he felt: what he felt when he saw Her, when he spoke to Her, when he thought of Her. What he felt daily in his life, but also especially with Her, as She filled his life. It wasn't a game anymore, nothing was casual about them. He loved life just because of Her, woke up in the morning smiling, went to bed at night, musing over Her. God, he even dreamt of Her at night.
And it all happened because of a realization, a confession to himself, when he said to himself "Ah, my soul! Life has become dreary. Your body aches, your mind aches. Your loneliness is a flood, and you are slowly drowning. Is there no end to this, no decrease to the deterioration, no eventual lesson learned? Surely, the thing you lack, the thing you need, is passion."
He decided then and there: passion is the rule to live by, to keep close to the heart, to feed the mind with. To be passionate about his daily life, about his behavior, his appearance, his affiliations, and most of all, to be passionate about Her.
Now, life is ablaze, and he is becoming happy again. All he can do now is wait and see the reaction of the world, of Her, to his passion.

"Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things. "
- Denis Diderot

Adonis A

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Cici's the cutest, man!

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Me and JD are identical twins. 

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How many of you have these nights where you're all alone, and beside you there's a phone, in the darkness, some music playing in the background... who knows which song... just waiting for the phone to ring. And it never does.
These nights completely depress me. And the fact that You're there, Angel; that makes it worse... You're there, waiting by the phone just like me. God, that breaks my heart.
People sometimes treat you miserably. I don't know, perhaps they forget they love you. They take for granted that you've forgiven them every time they've wronged you before and so it keeps piling up. But it's disgustingly painful, isn't it?
Then, after all the pain and hurt subside--after their most recent crime, now long gone in the distant evening--something takes over you. You realize that the song that's playing in the background is perfect. Love Should. Moby strikes you as a genius, for the mere second that you make this discovery, and then you go back to thinking of those all around you. They're all relaxing in warmest beds right now, wrapped tight in those covers that protect them from the dark - and from the cold.
But you're sitting all alone; no covers. Darkness. Cold. Loneliness.
This'll be a long night.

Adonis

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First of all, my dears, The picture off to the right is completely and utterly unedited. I took it. It is one of the most beautiful pictures I've taken, and the longer I look at it, the more interesting things I notice, things that amaze me and impress me, that scare and amuse me.

It is the same with this poem, by the great Edgar Allen Poe. I think the picture and the poem are the same idea in two different disciplines of art.
The poem goes:

TO ONE IN PARADISE

Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
"On! on!"- but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! me
The light of Life is o'er!
"No more- no more- no more-"
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams-
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.
-E. A. Poe, 1834.

Read the poem once or twice. Stare at the photograph. Is it just me that sees the similarity??

-SinodadoniS

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