Is it a ghost belonging to the fog? Or a multiverse conundrum? An equation with positive and negative integers? What is it? Do I ask so many questions? Or I’m just curious as life is precarious. Why is that you are so unable to solve this multitude, magmatic and damn intrusive problem with only one cipher that emerges to the ground when every dime it holds, folds then falls like dominos on the floor. Don’t invite more misery, just stop here. I can’t tell you much just that:
Love doesn’t destroy you, it can never. But you are destroyed by the hatred you hold so religiously towards love. Have you ever listened to the thunder, the rumbling sound? It is not fear you feel in every nook of your enclosed coward being, its the howl of wolf with his untamed energies, the fierce power-full love. I will not be neat you know, I’ll be ugly because that’s how the truth is. And that’s what I learned from this dim-grit fucking poet who calls himself J.Raymond. Truth is the pill that everyone wants but cant seem to swallow. So is love, everyone wants to have it but can’t really seem to hold it for so long. It can’t be possessed, kept or tamed, because silly its not yours to keep, it never was. Like the ebb and flow of the world, there is pain and pleasure in love. Why do you think these idiosyncratic people with supernatural powers to weave words around our hearts yell about love and pain. Where there is love there is bound to be heartache. Why do you think Elif Shafak wrote 350 pages no less on rules of love. Love is a paradox, pain is inevitable and power is an addiction.
Listening to what love-the mighty one holds, I fumbled. ” The clatter in my ears, evanescence and the creases on the layers of my heart. Could it be worse? I speak to the human looking valiantly at me, the devastation is so immense that it has formed cracks on my being. I lost the essence of who I was, you say its love’s untamed energies but it has created a groove in my brain that I can no longer dig out. My heart is not elastic, and I am no hero.”
Some moments seem devised purely by the cosmos above. Can you decode? Would you let life be merciful on you?
Answered the feared one: It’s like walking on air, damn its beautiful but it has no ground. Love sends me to a perilous stroll down memory lane. No matter how hard I try to fill those cracks with pure love now how much I try to heal it, the creases wont go- the cracks won’t fill.
Unequivocally, what left behind is the battle between pain and power, the two halves of love. Blowing hot and cold waves on the scars submerged in the skin. Ironically, all our lives we keep stumbling upon the pieces of love, power and pain, forever trying to put them together to make our self whole, forever trying to complete the picture of what we call life.
Love, Power and Pain: A monologue