If one day by some Godish brush-stroked twist of fate I should happen to meet you, among all the great occurences in my life, combining each and every aspiration I’ve ever illuminated upon inside my head, including those considered then forgotten, those that seemed impossible and those that have stagnated into indeterminacy, I know I will anxiously look back to the days when you were the unreachable, the unattainable, the dream stitched across my dreams like a beautiful star and feel somehow lessened, as if my ordinary and ordered life had suffered some great loss.
Having met you, if this should ever be the case, I would no longer have the constant heartbeat guiding my footsteps, the immense hope of possibility, the incessant urge of wonder, the flight, the chase. With no illusion to complicate my life, no belief beyond belief, nothing so resplendent, so colorful, so lovely to think and talk and write about, no longer the feeling of never feeling satisfied, I am afraid I would cease to care about anything.
If one day life finds us in some completely particular way with you there and me there, perhaps it would be best for you to turn your back. And yes, it is true that such a certain grace would unstring me while saving my future. By not speaking to me, by not making any sort of connection be it with your saint blue eyes or willing smile, a few uncommon words spoken from your mouth to my ear, the very legend of you would be diminished.
Whatever small stone of bliss I carry heart-hidden inside of me would also cease to exist, for my ordinary life would become extraordinary. I would have nothing to look forward to, no idea to pin my soul upon, nothing to absolutely dream about. The insurmountable idea of meeting you would dissipate into shadows and the shadows into expendable sighs of nostalgia and loss.
Sometimes I think about this. And I grow weary.
2 responses so far ↓
Ched // November 25, 2007 at 8:23 pm |
Hi,
I am reading a book where a man gets to see a star he adores…he has dreamed of getting close enough to smell her perfume…and now he has seen her as a real person. He has mixed feelings–but then I just started reading the book, so we’ll see what happens. I love the Bobs , but can summon no desire to meet him…he has enough fans wanting that already. When I read Chronicles I knew then he was even nicer (more real and more “regular” ) than I’d previously thought.
Kimberly James // March 21, 2008 at 3:45 am |
A’Men Girl!! Hey, I just started my blog and it’s still under construction, but I wrote Bob a poem, hoping that would keep his sweet spirit and voice from interupting my mind at times……uh, so far it didn’t work, but My poem is posted on “the Stairway to Heaven Needs A Handrail” (My new incomplete blog.) I could use some feedback from a fellow lover of that Baby Doll, Dylan….Peace and Habadashary!!