I remember believing in love. Or what was it, really? Back in my madness, my views on anything were skewed, and I wonder what was I really talking about when I said I believed in true love, that love would save us all, that love was the fundamental truth? I wrote poems about it, thought I had a handle on it, that mysterious four letter command: love. I gave myself a name, called myself Immanuel Genius Love (Immanuel, the name of the messiah; Genius, so I could say that genius was my middle name; Love, because I thought that that was all I was about). I thought so much of myself. I believed myself on the inside track on What Things Were Really About, thought that the universe was a mote in my eye, that I was the savior of all things. Seeing how incredibly wrong I was, what was I thinking when I thought of love? What was I talking about?
A fool says in his heart that he knows the truth. I know I am still a fool, still think I have something of a grasp on aspects of this world and this life. But there is a certain point where madness reaches beyond the mere foolishness of idle cogitation. I remember being so serious about it all, that the merest thought that connected to another concept was a revelation worthy of the greatest prophets. And love — what was I talking about when I talked of love? I had such a sense of what the mystery really meant, and all of it, all the grand philosophies I concocted — how little it really amounted to. Those great visions I thought I had, they were made mostly of vapor, easily dispelled, and my idea of love was less than a volume of cloud: when I talked of love, it was my coward's way out of actually putting the word to practice, an all-purpose excuse.
Some part of me wishes that that were not so, that the grand "visions" of my past meant something more than the ruminations of a madman. But more of me instead wants to move on, move away from such castles in the air. There is always something to learn. I should catch myself when I believe I have a grasp of some grand thing: is it really such a leap, or have I run in circles, believing in my heart I have traveled so far?
nikita
9:32pm tuesday, 23rd march
questions, questions...decisions, decisions...this is your most mature writing, I just keep reading it, wondering how was your day when you wrote it, what was your mind set, what was before, what was after...it's just so ALIVE. thank you, take care!
nikita