Epistemological failure

I knew not.

I knew not that I hurt you. I knew not that I even mattered enough that I could hurt you.

I saw that you were a marble statue that I foolishly fell in love with. I lashed out furiously - hurling hard words in an attempt to crack the cold, hard exterior that surrounded you. But I was wrong. What I saw was the unmoving demeanour of a man who learned that inaction yields no pain, that indifference was better than concern. What I saw was a disguise, a camouflage to survive the cold, hard world that is all you have ever known. What I saw was an armor to protect yourself against harsh surroundings.

I saw that your heart was stone, and so I believed that it could never beat for me. But I was wrong. What I really saw was a heart so pale because it has been bled dry by those whom you trusted it with. What I really saw was a heart beating so feebly that I mistook it as lifeless.

I heard cunning deceit in your words, but I was wrong. What I heard were the careful words of a man who learned that uttered words remain etched in the mind longer than if it were carved on stone. What I heard was a staunch unwillingness to become vulnerable and an immobilising fear of exposing one's soul.

I saw the steps you took were those of a thief, taken so carefully in order to steal for selfish gains. But I was wrong. What I really saw were the steps taken by a man who was walking on glass, afraid to fall into the dark and unknown underneath.

Forgive me.

I wish that I could clothe you with warm garments spun with love, decorated with the tapestry of life.

I wish that I could revive your ailing heart, and make it beat strongly again.

I wish that I could inspire you to sing both songs of joy and songs of lamentation, and do away with equivocations.

I wish that I could teach you to stride with confidence once again, secure in the thought that I shall be there waiting to catch you when you fall.

I wish that you would be the solution to my epistemological failure.

This article is dedicated to my favourite Christmas carol.

Music

You were the song

that my ears never heard

but my heart danced to.

Without warning, you were.

The song that pulsated with the universal rhythm.

and filled my soul

with an unearthly warmth.

For a moment,

the heavens were within my reach

and I was with the divine.

For a moment,

All that I have ever known and believed in was defied

by a single song that was you.

I was and I was not.

My entire being was as chaotic

as it was in harmony.

No word is there for the feeling

for it was never felt before.

Alas, it did not last!

Ending as it began.

Now I am back to silence and darkness

and it was colder than before.

But as the day gives way to night,

the end of something good

does not always give birth to evil.

The silence was cold indeed,

but it was as cold

as the early morning air,

as cold as the water springs.

It was refreshing

and it was invigorating.

I now look forward to the glorious first note

of an everlasting song.

Sin ti.

Sin ti, no hay nada.

No hay felicidad, no hay paz,

no hay salvación.

Sin ti, solo hay oscuridad,

solo hay tristeza,

solo hay muerte.

Sin ti, no tengo nada,

no tengo amor, no tengo sentimientos,

no tengo vida.

Sin ti, el vivir es un tormiento,

Y el morir será un placer.

English:

Without you, there is nothing.

No joy, no peace,

no salvation.

Without you, there is only darkness,

there is only sadness,

there is only death.

Without you, I have nothing.

I have no love, I have no feelings,

I have no life.

Without you, living is a torment,

and death will be a pleasure.

- Melquiádes Aseron III

A Quest for Love

My quest for love is not unlike the quest for the Holy Grail.

The quest for the Holy Grail starts as a noble mission – that is, to find a relic of divine origin – but quickly becomes a bloody journey marked with death, treachery and despair. My quest for love that would last is not so different. Instead of having bloody corpses as milestones, however, it is marked with tears and scars – a long river of tears, both shed and unshed, and a heart disfigured beyond recognition. And like the quest for the Holy Grail, every time I thought that I had found what I was looking for, I was proved wrong.

So far, every chapter of my quest in search of this elusive thing called “love” has ended in heart-wrenching failure. Along the way, I met different characters. There was the virtuous priest, the charming devil, the egoistic scholar, the deceptive beggar, the indifferent wanderer, the insecure merchant, the rash scribe, and the vanishing sorcerer. Each one of them left me with a deep gash in my heart, bleeding to the point of atrophy. Ah! Atrophy – le mot juste!

The blame rests not only in those people, though. They may have stabbed my heart, but I was the fool who let them. There were also some of them who handed me knives and let me stab my own heart. Whatever, they all ended fatally anyway.

As for my heart in atrophy, I do not know if it can function as such anymore. What I am sure of, however, is that it shall never be the same as it was before the quest.

I don’t quite remember what it is that I was looking for in the start or if I even knew what it was I was looking for in the first place. I am now beginning to doubt if this quest that I have undertaken is nothing more than a fool’s errand. I fear that the day when I will not even recognise love is in sight.

Alas! Love loses its lustre as this quest continues.

I have lost too much in this quest, and what little I have gained along the way does not do much to compensate for it.

I am tired, and yet I can not rest.

On the morrow, I shall face the angel.

Did Heaven send him to heal me? Or was he sent to deal the final blow? Whatever it is, I pray that he arrives soon.

My heart is giving out.