Picture… Perfect

 I should be writing about Psalmie---  my netbook buddy.

The explanation of its name, the apology I want to render it and the gratefulness I have for it--- were all but eclipsed by something that demands my attention at the moment.

I was surprised at how my unconscious actions betrayed concealment. Above is a picture… perfect to paint the nature of my present world.

 

Epiphany:

I am straying from my Main Topic.

Reason is slowly losing its hold on me, I am drawn to the currents of an unruly heart.

 

An object to pin my sight and hopes on, dims the sole Apple of my eyes.

So easily, unthinkingly, and hurriedly we equate happiness with fleeting things…

 

Why such, waits to leave and pain us still.

For the time being

Now, my heart speaks.

 

I saw and recognize you in the faintest of light.

Your features were dearly known to my memory,

And have registered alarm in my heart upon any sight of it.

 

How farther than the moon you seemed

Among the strangers before you, I was one.

 

Stare.

No I was but the air.

Words.

No nothing was spoken.

 

Silence and inaction were the active weapons

To crush me within

-emooomo!

----

Jane Eyre, the present object of my admiration and endearment in thoughts and in character (of course in the brilliant narration and depiction of Charlotte Bronte) has beautifully put into words what my heart was in dire need of.

“It is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it.” (Bronte C., 1847)

“don’t make him the object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies and so forth… be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.” (Bronte C., 1847)

 

First, I DISOWN the idea that I am inlove. I am not. In fact, I only know now of God’s love and my love for family and friends. Love, (romantic to be particular) to me, is too complex, indefinite at the moment. I don’t bother deciphering it now.

Second, the word “Love” in Bronte’s words can be replaced by the word “Liking” to best suit the need of my heart.

Third, the emooo poem, may have spoken it all. For the time being, heartache looms before me.

Fourth, I am in awe how these heartbreak issues toughen the maturity of my heart, deepen His role as to solely satisfy my soul, and draw me closest to His love.

 

Lastly, whatever this is, it’s only for the time being.

*The posting of this entry pushed through because the heart ache was raised to the 2^nd power....today... for the time being.