Why do women betray me? What is it about me that spurns women, that drives them away, leaving my heart a dull, decrepit husk of nonexistence? The heart is volatile, it cannot suffer the shocks of the woman who repeatedly aims to nullify the essence of life. The life force is ultimately depleted of the essential elixir which must retain the goodness of the soul. If the soul is decimated then the life force is left struggling to reason, for purity. Man is dependent on women, to fortify the hearth, to bear the children, to sustain life. And if the woman rejects the man repeatedly, so that the man is left in a raging life of suffering, however momentary, then the man is a wretched being, a fool. I am that fool as I depend on the woman to guide me, to inspire and instill warmth, solace and ecstasy. Where is the woman now? She remains alone as do I. Her uncertainty of the soul and deceptive feelings misled her. She feels lost, without purpose, because her emotions have contradicted her innermost, primal reason for existence. And she has left us both alone in our own personal hells.
On a wonderful Sunday afternoon, I sit and ponder the woman, her wants and needs, her purpose, her innermost perplexities that plague not only her but me, the man, who needs nothing more than her touch and her love. But I am left in a precarious state, one in which I cannot live wholly, in full earnest. I perform my routines—I clean the home, wash the dishes, do the laundry, eat and spoil myself with trivialities and nonsense which last from moment to moment to moment. I cannot fully live to my potential because I feel the plague of the soul, the soul is depleted, and I am left alone in a state of mourning, my heart mourns for the absence, the utter rejection of the woman. For without the woman, what man can indeed continue through life’s tribulations fully, in earnest? I confide in a peculiar mixture of alcoholic and acidic liquids, tingling with the spices inflaming the esophagus and throat, which mingle with the gastric juices and are thus digested in flames of torment, the aftereffects of which will be detected when the bowels contract and they leave my body with diligence yet an abhorrent, fiery pain. I smoke the dreaded, poisonous tobacco, and although its fumes are filtered, the smoke enters my lungs only to char and cause decay. Yet despite the poisons that wreak havoc on my system, on the life force, I care not. Instead I sit and ponder why the woman leaves me in such a tormented state. I urinate and empty my entrails, yet I feel no loss, no regret from my actions of folly, instead I rejoice in my absurd existence of the moment, ceaselessly waiting for the caress which may never come. The caress is what I confide in, it projects its talons into my soul only to reinvigorate, not to decimate. It is the caress which I long for, to soothe, to instill solace, to make me a whole man. Yet the woman is treacherous, she is despicable, and the very moment when I fully devote my confidence in her and my ultimate undying love she deceives me, she leaves me in a state of both ecstatic promise and depression. The woman does this to me, she decimates my heart, she strangles the soul, and I am left empty, wanting the love that she withholds, which she refuses to give as sustenance. The woman does this to me, she leaves a shell which has been invaded by the merciless beak of the seagull seeking its own sustenance. I am left alone in this strange world, alone in my preposterous state of seeking that which will propel me forward into the raging tumultuous battle of life, the victory of which cannot be forecasted, as it is only the heart which determines the victor. The heart and the soul reign supreme over mankind. The man is wholly dependent on the woman, he is nothing but a petty, useless slave to her. He needs her caress, her life force to propel him, her womb to comfort and invigorate. The womb is above all the most disastrous demon, it can bring a man to his knees to pray with all convictions he can gather. The man’s essential faith is dependent on the womb, for the womb is the entity which ensures prosperity of the life force of every man and child in this omnipresent world. Yet the bond of the woman and the man cannot be severed ultimately. Both entities need one another, they depend on each other’s life force. The elixir of life is created by that entity of the union between the woman and the man. The elixir is not only fortified, it is born from the love that the woman and the man share, for without that love the elixir cannot be formed. The love between the woman and the man cannot be jeopardized by any physical force, it can only be destroyed by unforgiving emotions. The mind will always preserve the love, it will never turn against it. But the emotions, the feelings of an individual, can easily destroy love if they are not kept at bay. Emotions are the most dangerous force which can deplete love. Emotion can slice the love between two persons, it can rage its own scathing, demonic temperament. Emotions are what come in between two persons who once cared for another, who once truly depended on each other, they can come between their love and cut the union into ribbons, so that the man and the woman are victim to the calamities of the moment.
Ultimately love reigns supreme. Love is supreme over all characteristics of the life force. Love dictates how the life force is to conduct its essential chores, it steers away the life force from entering into a calamitous torment. Love is the essence of being, the love fortified between the man and the woman must not be jeopardized, it must be eternal. It is only emotions which decimate love, which can destroy love. Thus emotions must not be allowed to encroach upon what makes love last. Emotions can accent love, but they must never be allowed to overpower love. The love of my woman for me was exploded by the emotional dynamite which found its way to her feet and forcefully placed the matches into her palm. Her emotions took control of her, and unwittingly she ignited the fuse. Now we are both alone in our own personal hells. I long for her, but she remains shocked by the damage she inflicted on our love, and she will not repair what she has destroyed as her emotions deceived her. Now I lay and wonder whether she will ever take the putty knife to the karma plaster in an effort to repair the holes which riddle our destiny together. I wait in agony, but my hope cannot dwell there, for my heart is compelled to continue its search for the one to sweetly caress….
I love you, my sweet absinthe-infused serenity, come back to me, my melodic, mystical muse. You are my delicate joy and inspiration. Let us simply and sublimely live and love together in esoteric ecstasy.
Copyright © Christian Garbis 2008