Prometheus

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The air is fresh and cool tonight. Its silence fills my head, and its loneliness surrounds me. The memories of a lifetime pass by, paralleled by the inevitable insight that nothing will ever change. The faces keep passing by and are replaced by others, but the rest – relationships, events, love, hatred, trust, the final treason, pain, regret, emptiness, pointlessness – ceaselessly repeats itself in a vicious circle.
The bypassing memories suddenly come to an abrupt halt – you. I can think of nothing else, as I behold, enthralled by a slightly uneasy awe, the goddess smile playing on your velvet lips forming your well-shaped mouth which is only surpassed by the sparks emitted by your darkish eyes. For a moment, I catch my breath and my heart appears to collapse, eager to burst the suddenly too confined ribcage keeping it. I shudder, and I am at a loss for words. I feel cold, and as I look outside, the night has crept on the sky, leaving me standing with my back to the wall.

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There is no hope. I am a modern Prometheus of love. The vultures pick at my heart, rip it out of my chest, and devour it eagerly. But alas, until the next day, all will have been restored in order that the torture may continue for ever, and no Hercules is to come so as to release me.

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20 thoughts on “Prometheus

    • Four years ago does not even sound like much, but it feels like an eternity. I lost my sense of time somewhere along the road. Those four years now seem like ages to me, even though the years have felt sped up to me for quite some time now. And yet, for some weeks, time has appeared to and continues to appear to stand still.

    • We may often suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much because the sincere meditation of the human soul is deeply humble, humane, and profound. I believe you wear both your strength and darkness equally well.

    • I suppose this is what is called ‘wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve’ – although I rather wear my heart on my tongue and my fingertips, the meaning of which should not be too hard to figure out.
      I thank you for your kind words, at any rate.
      Right now, I am feeling a bit dizzy because there is so much more that I wish to write and publish, even if it is not original (whatever that means would be yet another topic for another discussion).

    • I wish I could also read some of your personal love stories in prose form.

      Do rest and not feel apprehensive about the topics and plenty of things you have to write. There’s ample time.

      The issue of originality is typically a never-ending dilemma for writers. An artist not being original all the time poses no problem for me. The challenge lies in how to personalize or present what’s been done before in a distinct style.

    • My personal love stories are an abyss of frustration, disappointment, depression, and despair. My poetry opens a door to this realm, but I dare doubt that anyone would ever want to open the door completely, let alone tread on these desolate grounds.
      I think I should never go as far as claiming originality as to anything.

    • I can’t say I completely comprehend what you just said. And I wonder why you’ve ended up with such views on love.

      I’m not big on originality when it comes to my reading preferences but I do appreciate refreshing works from artists or writers. I favor the genuine feelings they put into their art no matter how familiar the presentation. What counts is the ability of a certain piece to move me.

    • Well, perhaps I just wrote incomprehensible gibberish. It used to make sense in my head, but maybe it does no longer make any sense spelt out, for whatever reason.
      I most probably ended up with such views on love because my love is an inextinguishable flame burning just a bit too luminously and passionately for anyone to be able to bear it.
      At first, I was foolish enough to believe I could control the fire, but of course, at some point I drowsed for a moment ever so slight, which sufficed for it to burn out of proportion. The bad news is it can only get worse.
      Besides, I feel honoured that you feel this way about my works. If you look for genuineness rather than originality, you will find it here any time.

    • I understand how you feel considering the number of times I got burned by love in several ways, too. I’ve held this notion, through experience, men and women treat romance in unequal doses so it’s a bit staggering to come across a small number of guys like you who affirm that they bleed for love.🙂

      How rare it is to find male writers who have the courage to pull their hearts out from inside for the whole world to see.

    • If you truly understand this, then either you are the first to do so or at the least the first to say so.
      According to my experience, most people consider love a fancy invention by literature or Hollywood; they are unaware of its actual existence simply because they have been told so. They live life according to explicit and implicit rules, while the thought barely, if ever, occurs to them to leave the beaten path. They are told to believe in and fear this or that god; so they do. They are told to believe in and fear this or that political system; so they do. They are told to believe in and fear their elders; so they do – and so on indefinitely.
      I only know that my love is always wrong, one way or another, giving or holding back too much, as I do, never on the right track, always walking on the edge of a knife that cuts me with every step I take. The more I am allowed to give, the happier I shall be; giving makes me happier than taking.
      If you would share your story with me, you may send me an email any time. I should not wish to do it here.

    • I love your latest piece on Lost Notes…Fragment#2. I love the way you exhale the warm depths of your emotions through each breath of your words. You can’t say your love is wrong when it’s become the lung of your hope and passion — even if you have to walk on the edge of a knife.

      I will have to sleep first before responding to the rest of your message. One thing is certain, love couldn’t have just been a fancy invention by humans — for it has consistently served as a main symmetry of our very existence.

      Please get get some good rest as well. It’s Good Friday tomorrow here in our country. Everything is going to be peaceful and quiet.

  1. Whether we admit it or not, it’s usually the female who falls victim to the illusions of love created by society, media and literature of our times. Too much availability of women, both young and old, plus their willingness to be exploited contribute to the problem. It’s become rarer to witness instances of total gentlemanliness on the part of men in the treatment of their partners.

    When you’re in love, prioritizing the happiness of the object of your affection becomes equivalent to your own happiness. It’s a win-win situation. Although that typically occurs during the first stages of relationship or courtship.

    Nevertheless, I’ve never lost faith in true love. I’ve written occasionally on the topic of soulmates and of matches made in heaven. But what are the chances of them finding each other in one lifetime. Very nil. And so we settle for the kind of love that grows out of friendship or physical attraction or even partnership for the sake of convenience. They could work as well and amorous feelings feel heavenly all the same.

  2. As to email correspondence, all my previous male blogpals took to emailing me even if intentions hadn’t been clearly stated beforehand. If you don’t mind, take a minute to click the link below and read a recent exchange between me and a co-blogger in the Comment section so you’ll understand my apprehensions about it. Then please tell me your thoughts. Thanks.
    https://justmarj.wordpress.com/2016/02/03/one-job-down-end-of-another-era/#comments

    • All right, I did not even think of any of this. All I was trying to say is that if you would tell me your story, you should feel free to send me an email because it would be less public (albeit not completely hidden from all possible prying eyes). There is no need for email correspondence unless you feel comfortable with it; for aught I can tell, I have no intentions concerning you at all. I should keep things at the level at which they are now.

    • Thank you for understanding. I do like your blog and the way you write. I hope to be one of your blogfriends soon and to value the camaraderie in the process. If we are to become email pals eventually, it will happen. But for now, I simply want the very few bloggers I follow the difficulty I went through in corresponding with certain co-writers in the past.
      I apologize if it caused any unpleasant feeling. It was never my intention.
      Peace❤

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