Is this Love?

I wonder sometimes when that feeling kicks in, the one where you’re about to go over the falls, if that’s just some illusion that your mind is tricking you with. Walking you down a path well trodden. Guiding you to some ecstatic mirage where you’ve missed the true oasis by miles but, that’s okay you’re drinking sand right where you belong.

Recently, I’ve been wondering if I’ve fallen in love with myself all those times. I wonder if what I saw in those eyes was just a reflection of the love I gave so willingly. This isn’t me being sad but, I’ve said I love you so many times I’ve probably lost count. Penned poems of heart songs and heartbreak. I’ve been getting better at relationships. I just don’t always know if I’ve been giving my heart to the right people.

And as I stand on the precipice of something new I have to ask myself is this all real again or am I doing this to myself if nothing else was right for me how could this be it? Is this how it’s supposed to be? Do we fall for self-idealized versions of others only to decide to stay or go when the sheet gets removed and we see that person in the garish light of day? If all of that is true, when do we learn to see that person for who they are at the begining and maybe not so late in.

The Hubris of Desire

A vision that blots out the rarest pigment sunsets

Or mountain landscapes

Is there truly beauty in those things,

When apparitions of divinity walk along the Earth on two legs?

Does the moon but reflect the sun?

While their intellect out shines the rise of Helios.

There’s beauty in many found things

but perhaps in a muse that finds itself.

Can vibrant, Autumn leaves

or soft, downy snow

string words together that compel

writers desire to tear their hearts out in envy?

Will a zephyr or the avian song

bring chills with notes stagnate over millions of years

or the symphony composed

from a compassionate soul

who ne’er take life’s pleasures for granted.

Is it hubris to compare one

to both earthly and celestial wonders

maybe so

but I am ever so confident that I know the right of it.

For what could be held in such regard

But the vastness of beauty in a mortal vessel.