It is the sad and comforting truth that even the mightiest mountains of emotion will in time be worn down to the molehills of apathy.
Love, excitement, passion are the worst when they are gone.
But in time one comes to recognise the forgiving nature of forgetting. How even, pain, hate and anger get worn down to a dull throb, and the slight shame that once encounters in having felt so strongly about a subject now forgotten.
I was listening today to Cirque Du Soleil, as I do in times of reflection and (aptly so) meditation came on. The words to which are:
Love is beautiful, fierce and strong,
an insatiable consuming fire, a lion pacing on the red hot embers of desire.
Love is a thirst that can’t be quenched, a sacred flame that can’t be drenched by icy showers of sobriety, or a society strangled by nations of propriety.
So what kind of love is this, this love that dares not speak its name, this love that hangs its head in shame.
Is this so called love even worth of it’s name.
True love doesn’t lie, it doesn’t hide and it will never be denied the right to sing its furious song in the sad empty streets from dusk till dawn,
Love laughs at fear and cries out it’s name for all to hear.
Love is beautiful fierce and loud, but most of all love is proud.
The Jewish festival Chanuka finishes tomorrow, the story of which (in brief) is about a fire that remains lit long after the oil fuelling it should have run out.
I realise that life is the opposite, a flame that will not be quenced is not significant because the nature of flames is that they will inevitable go out. It is the re-ignition of them that is significant.
All things fade in time, love and passion, hate and anger. These are only important if they return time and time again. I know I love my girlfriend because I fall in love with her every moment I see her, not the same love I felt when I first met her but a new love each day.
I made my mind up a little while ago to leave the theatre and pursue a different line of work, and since making that decision I avoided the theatre like the plague. I risked going to see a play a few weeks ago since which the flame inside has sparked, fizzled and re-lit itself.
Why are the Brick walls there… to show us how much we want something.
Why is there darkness… so that we may appreciate the light.
Happy to rEport… I‘m Back