Tuesday, April 25, 2017


The impassable thicket of your impassioned avowals stop me. While I long to smash the obdurate wall of unreason you have built I am waylaid by the eloquence of your utterance. They gleam , iridescently but flickeringly. These are distracting flickerings, they beam out pinpricks of light that hinder the searchlight of my intuition. The roving searchlight, circumnavigating the perimeter of its jurisdiction, all seeing yet unseeing, daubing in broad brushst...rokes yet microscopically fixated on its object of sight. This omniscience of zoning in while simultaneously gazing from a distance is like staring through a glass darkly. Sometimes I see with a lucidity that is its own blindness, elsewhere I detach the eye to focus on my I . In these dissociated interludes , the very suspension of fixity becomes its own illumination .

Meanwhile you entangle around the circumference of our context these verbal missives . My pathway to the kernel of veracity can be twofold. Either I simply leap into the fray of your loquacity with the brutal incursion of actuality or use the web you weave to rend these filigree associations. The latter would involve a painstaking retention of each symbol, association , inflection to dismember its constituents and reassemble them with the weight of my knowledge of your half knowledge . But such tactical stratagems are wearying, they circle around the truth and assume their own reality.

The hazardous nature of my exegesis is thus two pronged. The spell of narrative, whether it be the incandescent pixels of persuasion you adroitly fabricate or my self absorbed immersion in unravelling the process of my hypothesis of your perfidy, looms large. All this is rendered expedient because of the intransigence of your unyielding concealments. Timorousness at my end compounds the difficulty. It is pointless to deploy fancy metaphors of light and webs because light is its own web and webbed , wedged, bundled , disbanded in these interstices I come a cropper. Sight and labyrinths cannot be cropped . They are either negotiated with their resultant mazes or retracted from. Suddenly It strikes me that another fancy metaphor has striated these inanities you expound compellingly. Your words are your words, my insight is my insight. If they can't dovetail then let them imply catch the tail end of each other's indecipherability and retain the dove like unsullied purity of mutual uncommunicativeness.

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