Section 5: Beyond Desire



Where are you, my complement? I have yet to perceive your nature,

though I’ve faith in all our makers’ grand designs as

meaningful success that’s surely for the best.

I’ve only yet to grow into my higher self and better nature –

what I’ll need for when I meet The One (or anyone like me at all).

And is this Path not special – moving in a rare profundity?

Such is divine intent that’s realized through

every conscious kindred soul The Ancient Ones will ever choose to make.


“Love Alive”


Love has come alive again, in air of possibility…

My care for her has deepened in respect, as her maturity today has shown itself to me.

My thoughts seek not to limit her potential,

such a caring, forward-moving soul seems she to be,

but to look on with boundless faith in her fulfilled life destiny,

whether or not that unknown journey intertwines with mine and so with me.

What is the price of selfless love? Mere time and suffering,

rewarded with the prize of love’s return to a more perfect harmony.




So alone she seems, a stoic string strung here, now tugging at my heart.

I care that she too needs a deeper, more connected life,

like me, like anyone – two kind and grounded souls of sympathy

and growing, urgent emptiness relaxing into calm acceptance,

discarding desire for its inherent, empty pain.

She’s with me now, and so we wait our lives together

for the presence of a deeper good and merest chance of courage,

leading to the deepening of bonds and harmony in that regard.




She’s hurt – I hear it now, as clearly as I see the light of day.

I want to show her that we’re not all how she jumps to see…

Yet that adventure takes a calming courage

I’m not sure I bear consistently enough to persevere in this conversion of a soul.

What of her destiny? Don’t I bear responsibility to some degree?

We’re only how we are, though,

and deep change may only come from deep within, perhaps.

She’s not the only troubled soul whom I may help, as well –

I’ve only so much time in life, cool patience, and warm energy;

yet she’s a life of lessons, made for me to learn and build upon

with the level next of life’s maturity.

“Woe and Bond”




my crush is just so hard to join in any peace…

I lose my faith in self to help to solve our conflict,

and she sees this dejection, seemingly, as petty anger

which she jumps upon with an unreserved contempt,

calling me “such a little baby,” and, depressingly,

forgetting our long past – such problems solved..

to judge my soul as immature and even bad.

Her labile mind I could still love in hope,

if it were not for her poor memory –

her future’s handicap-extreme?




Yet we push on, don’t we?

Despite all animosity apparent,

persevering in a hope for resolution,

baring our lives’ histories so openly,

our insights, caveating well, thus

piquing open-heart relating and

restoring our so-temperamental

bond of some intimate empathy.

This is my training, is it not?

& worth the stormy tempest,

learning how to so resolve

what seems to ever drive

our splitting wedge,

subliming pain.


Why is this so?

Perhaps she sees

I’m not a soul to

flush away like

human waste.

I know not of

her heart’s intent –

I’m just attempting

to awaken in her soul,

whatever is compatible

with such a soul as mine

and listen well to her

expressions of her

deepest inner drives.



Excited by the challenge of an argument I’ve lost before begun,

misthreaded all along the way, and within each pejorative,

perhaps a grain of truth… which grace accepts and validates.

My paranoia now is realized, as now I realize that it’s okay

for any soul to somehow think the worst of me;

it steels and sharpens me for cool, pragmatic grace,

as we attempt to unveil truth and co-create affinity.




Her prickly nettle mind makes a connection’s bond perhaps impossible,

affection much like hugging porcupine – sarcastic, quick contempt consistent,

evidence of stress, depression, and anxiety. Will much good come of this?

She’s making more sense everyday – her rage, her drowsy sadness, shaking as if

on the verge of tears.. reminding me so inescapably of Catniss Everdeen,

exemplified in novel’s prose, of distant paranoia and so like the thorny rose.


“Love’s Idyllic Quench”


My romantic muse shows no warming interest

in me as a mate, and I am left to wonder what is wrong with how I seem

or simply if she’s not like me (in search of love’s idyllic quench).

I thought I’d miss her, gone, but I am just relieved to let the tension go

and sit in relative peace, beyond desire…

Perhaps I’m simply meant to learn to grow past self-deluded fantasy.

I wonder if she thinks of me, though, now –

such an attractive thought to my soft soul’s

sad search for a more satisfying spirits’ synergy.


“Considering the Consummation of a Crush”


Is it sin to wish for deepest love,

fulfilled, reflected, realized

between two souls of virtue-fantasy?

Is it healthy to give in to every drug

of any daydream, within which

none are as they seem in daily life?

Is it pragmatic, all consciousness

and time considered,

to make believe, love, and little ones

with a soul so caught in negativity?

Perhaps it’s not any view of the above,

but of the mystery as of yet not conceived…


“The Pull”


My deepest drive, dyadic union,

ever in frustration,

kept alive by life-sustaining

crumbs of love,

keeps me torn in suffering

which I must move beyond

for better life.

Yet I’m so hungry,

I cannot seem to help myself

from helping myself

to every crumb.

I see a beautiful and troubled heart,

and I identify with cares and pains

this other shows to my

humanity of love and desperate hunger

for a form of harmony.


“Blue-Heart Love”


Blue-heart love must miss

its ill mirage of a dyadic union’s

promises of hope

that we are more together than:

apart, alone, adrift

in the forever-shifting currents

of a transitory life.

We’ll see in time, perhaps,

if more is right,

if we are kindred souls

from worlds apart

who take a blessing from

each other’s heart and start

a grown-together life

of hearts in harmony.


“The Circuit of Desire”


Desire comes, and cyclically,

desire takes my peace, and then

dissatisfaction shunts back to desire,

seen as resolution of such suffering –

an end to tortured-soul-mentality

(which never comes, ironically)…

There was a time, so brief and glowing,

when we made each other happy, dear,

but soon the honeymoon became divorce,

and here we are, so negative again, in want of what?

I’m seeing now through what dysfunction’s

plagued me with for so long…


“Desire, Described”


The drug is potent – I shiver in its love.

Addiction washes over all my logic,

and I hope and wish for changes

that may let us find a deeper

and more perfect union

in each other’s arms

and hearts of love.

And yet, so many bricks of divisive

misunderstanding have built this

great wall of pejorative irony.

God has plans, it seems,

beyond fulfillment of

some dysfunctional

fantasy of union.

I let it go again, again, again…

My sense of her gets ever

deeper in experience,

and I forget and

love again.

What is WRONG with me?

Why must I BE like this?

Hope is my essential,

I suppose, but I

wish peace!

She’s working other bonds,

I know, and isn’t like me,

doesn’t like me, and

don’t strike me as

a soul for keeps

for such a soul

as anyone

like me.

So why can’t I just get over it?

Am I so weak to any love?

My life is my decision

& I will let this drug

now run its course

to an extinction,

ever luring my

naiveté again

and again in

all its curse.


“Both in Blue”


Both in blue, we repel somehow…

She’s just so cynical, it seems,

Misunderstandings at the ready intuition,

that we haven’t even merest chance of

stably holding mutual high regard.

Still, my crush, it forges on,

in my suspended disbelief

in some idyllic fantasy of dyadic union,

romantically perfectionistic,

self-deluded inescapably,

so sad and lonely am I in

these dark and troubled days…


“A Disparate Perception of Intent”


Haunted by misunderstandings

covering, confusing every

possible grain of truth.

I’m sorry, shamed, guilty, yet misled –

I forget that I truly didn’t mean

what she seemed to interpret me to mean.

The thought emerged, I know,

from just my awkward need to

brighten moods with a joke.

I even first considered

that it might offend, but

she’s so self-effacing,

in the end, in long split seconds,

I chose to express the joke, in all its risk of

possible disgust and feelings hurt,

and in the end I earned the judgment of my love,

who was attentive to my words of foolish jest.

Where are there people

who are willing to grant

the benefit of the doubt?

“You stick to the laughing,

and I’ll stick to the joking,”

I said in faux egotism,

using a different voice

to quip and rib her wryly for

her own failed attempt at some levity.

Were the shoe on the other foot,

I’m sure I might have been

embarrassed, angry, hurt –

tested in my grace and in my

faith in my apparently evil “friend.”

I hope this incident will serve as

an inoculation against

such glib and careless rhetoric

and ground me in

my sense of what’s appropriate

to say, even in jest.


“Averting Aversion”


She’s so quick to lash out

that I only manage conversation

with sheer calm and curious grace.

She seems to ask no questions,

save the ones whose pointed barbs

slash and sting my sensitive soul;

and as I get to know her,

more and more her face and voice

reflect this person-sense within my intuition.

Attraction fades now thankfully

in the light of this acknowledgment,

and I am open, glib, and peaceful once again…


“Conversion Conversations”


She’s righteous, just like me,

yet quickly polarizes as if I were bad,

over misunderstandings about my heart’s intent.

Can I transcend this hurdle, teaching of my heart to her esteem,

or is this God’s mirage again,

playing on my superficial judgment

of her beauty as indicative of personality,

a delusional mirage which I so crave?

How stupid I have been, to pine impossibly for union

with a firework like her, who judges me, so quickly dark.


“Lessons of Love”


I do not love her cynicism, but I love her good intent.

Can she not learn to find her way out of this dysfunction,

with my tested guidance, gently said?

She must just trust in my intent as good,

so I must ever even more live life impeccably,

in mood and thought and speech and act,

and grace through her inevitable flip,

perhaps asserting, for later memory

and my own sense of some success,

my balanced and so long pro-social point of view.


“Virtue, Be”


Virtue, be my only; I see to your heart.

You see the goodness in your face,

reflected in the mirror every day

and so must know so deeply:

You are Good, embodied.

I remember your delusions,

not so different from my own, perhaps..

..and could I love you ‘til the end of life?

Would I get bored or be your kindred spirit

as we exit reservation’s armored shell?

Ah, well, as God would have it,

you may well be just a muse of growth for me,

of incarnated illness, cured,

which I seek to withstand

within my heart of honor’s search for harmony.


“She’s Gone”


She’s gone, and I feel the loss.

She’s not the one for me,

but God has teased me with forgetful hope.

We don’t even respect each other, really –

she thinks that I’m a narcissist,

and I think that she’s projecting

her paranoid cynicism onto me.

She may be a salvageable soul, in time,

but is it worth all of our intensive effort?

She keeps me fearful of misunderstanding,

yet focused, cognizant of efficacy…

…and I could live with that –

I’m already now adapting to her ways.


“She’s Back”


She stares not out of love, but out of dismissive contempt.

When Fem-A laughs and calls me “funny,” Fem-B corrects her – “annoying,”

and I’m left to wonder why and how I’m seen so differently to each of them;

and friends they are, enjoying friendly company away from me

and joyfully relaxed, even, seeming so carefree…

The ache returns as I look to its force within my heart,

and so I once again let it go – my fading pain…


“What Can I Say?”


I care and care

and fail and fail

and learn to let

success work out

without my tries

at help for what

seems best for

those who care

as well and are

willing to feel

pain & suffering

for that love.


“What Is Love?”


Welling up from deep inside,

the hope I now confide in you

is a mirage I made in my addiction to

idyllic dreams, and how they seem to be

The Answer when I am lost and searching

for what I’ll only find within me.

I used to think that love was when I just can’t do without.

Then one down day it struck me – what true love is all about.

The more I grasp and cling to what I think I want,

the less I see that we don’t need nothing at all for this moment to be complete.

That’s why I’m giving up the heartsick crush of petulant desire,

so I can give of a love that’s real, from a heart that starts to feel just fine

and so is capable of higher-minded, altruistic sentiments of such a selfless care.


“A Way Out”


I try and TRY to just escape its grip, but The Ultimate Irony won’t let me go.

In love with a parallel soul who can’t look past the cover of the book,

I endure in my denial, further pushing said sad soul away.

Tears begin to well up past control, as I now realize

The full extent of this deep tragedy. I’ll live to laugh again, I’m sure;

somewhere deeper than identity, I struggle with this faith in life

and try to let such painful hope leave my heart, as my rejector suggested so callously,

being one who’s been through such deep pain as well

and knows its nature well, as well…


…and so I tell you true – we can be friends,

when you leave the pine behind and care enough

to respect my need for some Platonic space.

I don’t want to be your addiction, dear –

it’s a bit much on a daily basis…

depravity is not becoming,

and my nausea and irritation well on up, as well…

Is there a solution which might work for the both of us?

Be mindful, my friend, of your nature

and what’s possible as good, and know –

I’m willing to attempt to help you through,

if you can see enough of this sad picture to change…

I recognize that your focus isn’t entirely off-base –

social pleasures are only natural to crave, I feel.

It’s just not rational to crush on me, for I am unlike any other soul –

it’s not my path to lead you on, but to work on my transmission

to this culture so deeply in need of wisdom.

Focused I am, and focused will stay, I know, on my values,

attentive to the betterment of self and world around.


“Thought to Free a Captive of Desire”


Within a want’s seduction,

I am now and ever lost,

evaded by the satisfaction

I lose my potential now to seek.


Mirages of fulfillment reign

in my direction’s wisdom,

as mortality creeps up on

all my wasted consciousness.


I came to recognize this cycle,

mindfully aware of processes

of function and dysfunction

and the priorities of my life.


Closure thus becomes of it,

and health is thus restored,

as my desire is so dissolved

 in introspection’s simple light.

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