Both in their own separate ways and timing, preservation and transformation acted upon my thoughts and feelings. They put in flux my concept of how this world displaces me. All structure of action, emotion, regularity, the ordinary, has ebbed into the dark facets of a small deficient stone. Experience has infused this light beaming facet with human sensibilities and meaning that were expected to be more than sufficient to carry thought and action into a single plane. Instead it became a struggle for a sense of existence and clout. It lacked the ability to support failure. We voyaged around the city in a tumultuous circle.
“Give it back!” He demanded, “I want the thing that started it all.” He begged as he half concentrated on the road, and half waited for my response. In my refusal I realized the thought that ‘nothing will ever suffice’ has stripped away my willingness to give, to receive, to interact on an intimately allegorical plane with him. It has stripped away so much in my own awareness that nothing remains but the exposition of my longing, which has brought fullness to me.
I wanted to tell him that it was not that thing that started it all, but our own inevitable gravity which did. I lacked confidence that he would accept my answer, for he was already denying my denial to give. This lack of knowing his next reaction is that which hesitated my thought and action. It was also the knowledge of what this vestige couldn’t do for him that gave me the ability to deny his request. He still placed great expectations upon this anulus, as thought it would act as a shelter or defender, or that it would develop into a curative occurring outside of his being. What he could not perceive is what I saw in it, the wanting of destruction, separation, the end of things, but the vauntingly minor ability in which it could do this. He needed to find the closure from within himself.
I thunk to myself, whist sitting prisoner inside of his vehicle, I almost married a man who’s mental and emotional tumult overtook his efforts to control the material and his own will.
“I’ll have you know I drugged myself up quite thoroughly before coming to this moment,” he paused waiting for a reaction. I knew the drugs his words were indicative of, the ones that came in little orange yellow bottles, containing capsules of even smaller size to dispense the appropriate dosage of control or complacency, dispensed by the individuals who claimed to be caring healers, and corporate conglomerates to help aid the consumption of society while easing the anxiety that nearly everyone is addicted to, but few truly realize they are suffering from.
This statement didn’t elicit a strong response within me, a heavy twinge of disappointment and grief hung over the silence. We hurt each other in this opposition. All I wanted was to not hurt anymore. But we could not agree on how to do that for one another. I myself have found ways to compensate, accept, and fill my lonely existence. He claimed he did not have the same experience, and would not until I gave him what he wanted.
“I have everything to gain from this! What do you stand to gain from keeping it?”
“I gain nothing.” Is all that could escape from my thoughts, traveling the distance to my mouth. I also muttered something about how I am not responsible for his closure. What I wanted to say what much more amorous and admirable, but the abstract feelings of expressing to someone what an amazing and worth while creature they are is far from being explicable with words. For me this wasn’t about control, about ego, nor fault. For me this was a chance to spend a little more time with him, which in turn was with a past self, though it may be in the most conflicting of circumstances and desires. I wanted to express to him the magnitude of person and being sitting next to me in the car, and the difference between that and the state he perceived he was in. I wanted to express to him that regardless of what we believed was happening that there was something far more beautiful to be experienced, regardless of the physical presence, because our souls had already become one. Within that oneness we sensed an urgency to do something, but neither could agree on what.
So we continued to drive.
My physical body began to become weary with chaos of opposing will. Asking my soul for rest, he granted it and took me home.
The physical resolution is that the ring is now gone. The soulful resolution is an unspoken curiosity and understanding that separation will serve best our poignant passage within the duality of unification.
This pain and confinement will stand as our ultimate moral, offering a degree of hope to the anagogical sanctified coalition.
There will always exist inexplicable ties invested within myself ceaselessly distending outward of the memory, the experience, the love, the joy, the horrific fear, the deficiency to mesh desires, imposition of will, and the fine art of falling apart, spreading its hopeful abstract essence without the corporeal.
