My Love Affair…

There are those who preach caution: infatuation is one thing, love – quite another. The first seduces the senses and blinds one to all but the object of their desire. For a time it is impossible to think of anything else, and yet such flighty passions will subside, and their object relinquished in search for another. Whereas love… as the bard would have it:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

So I will throw caution to the wind and confess to being in love. I was caught before I had any idea that the affair had begun, and now there is no escape. If it were mere infatuation, its candle would’ve burnt out long before now. Yet here I am still, a writer adrift. The more I write, the more I love it. Seduced by the sinuous texture of words, by their music and subtlety, I journey into the realms of the imaginary. This boundless sea is my home.

 

Day Two: Say Your Name

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…

“Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.”

~ Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare ~

 

About this image: A glimpse of Verona’s Roman heart, enfolded in the loop of the river Adige and defended by ancient walls.

Although many romantic hopefuls visit Verona in order to get a glimpse of Juliet’s balcony on Via Cappello, 23 – I will readily admit that despite its renown this particular stopover was a disappointment. The courtyard gets very crowded, and the graffitied walls were not exactly in keeping with one’s expectations of what a Capulet’s stronghold may look like.  Do not fear, however, as there are more than enough balconies to satisfy the enthusiast. I lost count after the first two dozens.  

I will not attempt to describe the effortless charm of Verona’s architecture, or enumerate the treasures it has amassed within its walls over some two thousand years of uninterrupted expansion. I could hardly do it justice. Neither my amateur photography nor any praise I offer will be able to translate the ease with which this city will seduce you, should you chance to pay a visit. 

 

Daily Prompt: Moments to Remember

For never was a story of more woe…

Until the moment when your palm made prayer of my own

And lips then followed suit to cast the sin away

The taste of pure joy to me had been unknown.

To hold that moment always: no price too dear to pay.

 

Too quick to love, to sorrow turned delight

When you were named: the heir of my foe.

Had I not eyes to keep you from my sight

And to my heart deny this willful woe…

 

A moment’s weakness and the harm was done. Lament

Will not exchange your lineage for another.

What have I done? For what must I repent

To purge this longing and all feelings smother?

 

Had I the motion of the stars within my reach

I’d make them turn the flow of time and make it dawn

For yet another chance I would beseech,

Relive the day in flight. From you withdrawn.

 

If only you were nigh to hear my plea,

Make yours another name, your past deny

And with one word set all my troubles free,

Make me believe the truth to be a lie.

 

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Daily Prompt: Your Days are Numbered

According to Strong’s Greek Dictionary, the number 26 corresponds to Agape, meaning Love – hence Romeo and Juliet.

Unloved

               I think… I love you too.

              Such simple words, but listen

              What do they tell you now

              Under the glaring sun?

              Ambiguous at best,

              At worst more than reluctant

              To turn the passion’s thrust

              Into a lover’s promise.

              And what is love?

              A doll that toys with your emotions,

              Dressed up in idle flutter,

              Misnomers… earthly pleas.

              A youthful dream perhaps

              Made true by foolish summers

              Spent nosing through the dust

              Of erstwhile myths.  

              Await your Romeo’s boots

              To clamber through the window,

              Or Cleopatra’s knife to carve desires new.

              Fools! Their blood crushed worlds

              And you want to drink oceans

              When their depths in anguish

              Will drown in vows untrue

              The last beat of your heart.

              Unshackled, stand alone

              And learn the price of daring

              To hope against all proof.

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