she

There are only so many reasons to do anything. Correction, there is only ever one reason to do anything. Desire. Everything after that is nothing more than purest moonshine. The plethora of excuses, explanations, rationales and whatnot that mankind has, throughout civilization, employed to mask this, our base motivation, is a testament to nothing more than our equal loves of fantasy and social acceptance. Since Adam, juice stains on his lips and sin in his belly, attempted to deceive the Almighty, Man has schemed to hide his desire. Often the delicacy of the cover up rivals even the intensity of the initial compulsion, but rest assured, at the foundation of any conscious action are the co joined twin offspring of Desire. I Want and I Need. Insatiable, omnivorous and never resting they devour, demand and dictate.

I say all that because I need to you to know that I am no angel. My writing for you today is by no means some act of altruistic benevolence. Not in the purist sense at least which, if the above is to be believed, never truly happens anyway.

Every good story deserves a beginning and most good story tellers will admit that that is rarely where any good story actually starts. With that in mind I will attempt to be as forthright with you as possible and cut straight to the wick.

I love her.

days

there are good days and there are bad,

there are easy days and there are hard.

there are moments of pure emotion,

my eyes well up and the heart swells,

my pulse races and thoughts disappear into mist even before being fully formed.

those times when I would run to the moon hoping to shed myself,

when I would gather the clouds around to hide from the intensity of my own inward gaze.

there are times when sorrow masks itself with laughter,

a smile hanging loosely like a neon sign outside a derelict shopping district

a playful chuckle standing as sombre sentry

keeping watch over the true feelings buried deep within

there are fragments filled with such an immensity of activity

that finding the time to do anything is in itself a feat,

these days when the hands work so that mind will not,

the body is engaged in hopes that the heart be distracted

but there are always

choruses and verses,

places, both real and dreamt,

words and sounds,

sunrises and sunsets

all of these things and a dozen beside

that remind me just how much

imissu

the fight

fight, because there are things in life worth it.

there are dreams that will not rest unfulfilled,

passions that cannot desist.

fight, because there are battles that must be fought,

even if lost. there is victory in the losing,

there is honour in believing.

fight, because time indeed will tell

and now is the only story we can write

and the tomorrow will always remember

fight, because there will not always be the chance

fight, because when it's time to let go,

it simply is.