More Poetry/On Life and Love

And now I'm wondering if that is too meladramatic a title. Oh, well, it's very nearly on the money.

I was just now sitting outside, after several very social and lovely beers, musing on love, and my personal take on it.

Now, I'm not just talking romantic love, although that does certainly have a bearing in this whole business. No, my first thoughts were of the people that I inherently trust, the people closest to me, who constantly re-affirm their trust and belief in me as a person, the people who I can see myself reflected in. They are the nearest, the strongest. They are more important to me than anything. And I'm sure that they know who they are. Or they very well should.

That is not to discount anyone else in my life, quite the contrary. I revel in the diversity and nuance in the people I interact with. Every person is unique, that goes without saying, but it also means that every relationship you form, on any level, is completely unique and different. And that, that is what really blows my mind. And I mean... I don't know. But I know that it delights me, I have boundless enthusiasm for people, and for what I learn about them.

And romantic love is still quite astonishing. Anyone who knows me knows that I love easily. I do. James knows this perhaps more than anyone, as he frequently bears the brunt of my impassioned ranting. But yes! I am a creature of passion. I'll throw myself into things, not caring what the negative consequences could be, not caring a jot about the possibility that my heedless enthusiasm and delight will leave me open to whatever emotional fuckery is out there. I just don't care. I don't even think that I could. I just... let it go.

And perhaps that's how it should be. Perhaps not a wild rush of sentiment. That does, in my experience, lead to trouble. Not that I care. No, I mean that we should not be afraid to just love. To put oneself forth in positivity, in some kind of goodness, in a genuine desire to interact and uplift, to...

OK. Drunk and rambling now. I don't care, my point remains. Amanda Palmer (there's that name again) had the right of it. "There's no end to the love you can give."

So there.

Now, for yet more terrible poetry. I'm feeling magnanimous. (I am, it's not just that I really wanted to use that word.)

--

I know that I throw myself higher,
I cannot help it -
Boundlessly, a perpetual oddity,
Aware and uncaring.

Each outpouring lifts me higher and
punches the limits and
sends me to
soar

Never mind that every time
I bare my
heedless, steely vulnerability
And yet...

--

And we'll just pretend that my poetry doesn't paraphrase everything I just said, rather literally. So much for nuance. Ahem. Moving right along...