Sticks & Stones are Love

I was in love - more than once - and it never seemed like it was anything more than engaging in giving up my power or gift-wrapping my will to be handed over to another. This is generally pleasing to both parties until boredom of status quo sends the mind a-wanderin'. The "mind-ness" of sexuality takes root like bamboo and episodes play out matinee-style day and night. Then, what is cherished most becomes the end of a flower's career. Season after season, desire springs like a wildflower that has no appreciative meaning except as a decorative amongst scrub or as a resource for birds looking for nesting supplies.

Oh, how we homo erecti love the diversion of desire and submission to its often unfulfilling seduction! But, what is the meaning for this shape in our life? What ghost dances with our longing? Are we like the Plains Tribes who transcended to a memory of a future union that must first face decimation? Is the human condition one of such suffering that pleasure has no meaning except one that is conjured and commodified and leads to such entangled time structures gummed with memory, emotions, and forgetfullness? Can I desire, act on the desire, and fulfill a meaning that is more than decorative to my life or as the bedding of a seasonal attempt at psycho-emotional survival?

Sticks & Stones