Tuesday, November 24, 2015

allay 169: on the election of friends

In any living circle of friends, the election of members is a will and a wont, a freedom and a necessity; a church may be every so polite, but membership doesn't go to the idle or curious, but the sincere and sincerely welcomed. By hidden signs and freemasonic handshakes, a fellow knows his place, and finds his fatalistic moorings. Ditto that ultimate conspiracy, the marriage Love is free, love is paid for. We come to know and own what is ours to know and own, and there is no forcing your way into heaven, and love cannot be bought, raped, taken, tricked, or stolen, but is given by a necessity that is both free and not free, fatal and spontaneous. Chance and destiny mingle and kiss, and this is how the eternal marriage is borne.


Every circle of friends, whether in a television sitcom, in a novel, or in reality, is a compensation, a balancing of this or that, so that this set of friends will seek that other unique character to balance their dynamic. The new member may not seem to fit, may seem an awkward disjointed addition, but poetic justice is a deep poetry, and revels in paradox and conflict. Love is war, romance is battle. The deepest subterfuge is a game against ourselves, and we only trick ourselves when we manipulate others.


Love is a hunter who outwits every quarry. The fool is fettered in his folly, the wise is fettered in his wisdom. The strong is overpowered, the weak is subdued with weakness. Wherever you are and whatever you are, your own position will betray you. Wisdom is folly, genius comes to ruin. Love undermines us all, is wiser than the wise and more foolish than the fool. Subtle as water and as pervasive as air, love can never be undone. Stronger than death, love brings us to death, and my own death will be the doing of she I love the most.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy




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