I am back from the black, that void of unbeing where I went to recoup in vain.
In failing convalescence I soon understood how insanely foolish I was. For in self-imposed exile I realized, or rather remembered, that two things are vital to my being.
First, as unconditionally benevolent as I might aspire to be, I need a little reciprocation, that little sumthin-sumthin that only feeds me as simple nourishment and barely serves to gratify.
I now see that a tit-for-tat is undeniably, seemingly, lamentably and deplorably, improbable. So, I accept that I do not need an equal, as much as merely a willing muse.
And yet, therein and therefore the conundrum continues.
Secondly, I know now that greed indeed kept me away. For I felt if I could not play too, if I could not have that certain something, than she would not have any as well.
Alas, conscience got the better of me to realize how petty I was being. Because simply because one might be enjoyed while not likewise enjoying, as thespians and other entertainers often do, does not give one the right to withhold the blessing of one’s words.
“For has it not occurred to you,” berated my wit, “that your divining gift is not truly yours alone, but rather as all gifts are, it must be given in order to be? Otherwise, it is indeed futilely, nothing more than selfish pride, narcissism that belies an impudent independence of others.”
And so, tired of looking solely at myself, I concluded that it was time to step back into the light and lift the veil to reveal who else might be reflected in that mirror of mine, hoping to find the divine spirit of my Eurydice awaiting in the impalpable distance.
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