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Moments like these remind me of what life has to offer
A complex set of possibilities that are fashioned by our desires and conjectures
We form so much of our realities through envisioning something so much more than others may see for themselves
We believe as if our lives depended on it
We cherish the littlest sentiment that is conveyed when it appears that nothing else really matters
Yet, there are so many things that are of equal importance but we are too enamored by its beauty that we cannot focus on anything beyond its silhouette
For her it may be found in his chiseled frame that exudes a protective strength
For him, it may be found in her delicate nature that he seeks to possess and protect as if he were Solomon
At this point, I am unclear if either is an accurate depiction of what often is the false fantasy that romance and love are flaunted to be
What are the purposes of roses for one who is rendered emotionally senseless?
What is the purpose of saying sweet nothings when your vocal chords are muted by forces beyond your control?
What is the purpose of highlighting the bluest of skies to one who only responds to a bombardment of raindrops?
Jaded narratives have no place in a reality that reminds us that love is a fleeting phenomenon that challenges us to be all that we hope to be and then some
Building monuments of sentiment that with a few well-placed words can be decimated beyond recognition.
Echoes of a distant voice that spoke a rhythm into a willing heart
To beat a new tune that unknowingly was nothing more than transient
Leaving in its wake a shell that remains empty and traumatized
If it were a bird it would be grounded unable to soar
Leaving it at the mercy of its hostile environment
If it were a fawn it would be underdeveloped and reduced to being easy prey for local predators.
If it were human it would be heartbroken left to ponder the disjointed puzzle that reality has placed at ones feet.
Affairs of the heart leave us bewildered when they escape our grasp forcing us to reevaluate our grip.
Questioning our form
Our intentions
Our desire to hold it in the first place
Affairs of the heart are just that
Occurrences that shape our moods
Our patience
Our relevance to others
No longer does it make sense to chase a distant star that does not seek claiming
It has professed a need to roam the constellations it has become accustomed
The fragility of all that is bound to this complex set of sentimentalities is of significant concern
Not solely for the one who is enraptured in its deliberate spell but only for the benefit of what has cast it
No need to deny what all who are around already know
You have been blindsided by Cupid’s arrow or it is the luck not granted from failing to find that pot of gold.
In all cases, we are merely captivated by the irony that what we crave may be as imaginary as the fairytales that we’ve come to know as modern day sensibilities.
Ironic Captivation is here for us all to contend with yet we are less prepared for this onslaught of mountainous critique
Ironic Captivation is learning that what makes sense in ones head does not always translate into what is enacted in ones heart.
Making sense is for another game
that those who travel this path most certainly are at its mercy
Ironic Captivation is an element in our every day experiences
We can configure our realities through the responses of those who are within our midst
We are perpetually enacting the roles that others have defined for us
How ironic?