Sort of San Francisco Fan Club: Where am I? She asks .... I am here, and there

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Where am I? She asks .... I am here, and there

Why, I am waiting for you in the throne room of the castle while critiquing our latest commission from Master Rembrandt. Where else would you expect me to be? What do you think?

2 comments:

Anonymous said...: "Suits me perfect "She told him.."

The Room..The Music.Rembrandt and Bach..You..

.....; May 3, 2010 at 7:24 PM
Anonymous said...: It is very exiting you are back..I have been waiting for you..

Iam very happy!!!; May 3, 2010 at 7:26 PM

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The Actual Instant of Love, from Fram

I am a jealous guy, of the sort John Lennon sang about. Any man who says he is not a jealous guy either has no genuine depth of feelings for the woman he is saying it about or is a liar. I can remember very distinctly, for example, when my feelings for my wife vanished. It happened in an instant. When love vanished, so did jealousy.

Actual love happens in an instant, I believe, although it does not always seem to be that way. I am not talking about "love at first sight," but, rather, "love at first instant." This means two people might have known each other for weeks, even for years, before the "instant" occurs. It comes with a single sentence spoken by one, or a single action taken by one, that strikes the other like lightning.

Affection grows; love is born. Love also disappears in an instant, I believe, although it does not always seem to happen that way. Incidental to my point, I do not believe in "love at first sight." That is no more than simple, physical or emotional attraction, which is the cause of countless and never-ending problems.

Time retains ....

Time retains
its sacred right to meddle
in each earthly affair.
Still, time's unbounded power
that makes a mountain crumble,
moves seas, rotates a star,
won't be enough to tear
lovers apart: they are
too naked, too embraced,
too much like timid sparrows.

Old age is, in my book,
the price that felons pay,
so don't whine that it's steep:
you'll stay young if you're good.
Suffering doesn't insult the body.
Death? It comes in your sleep,
exactly as it should.

When it comes, you'll be dreaming
that you don't need to breathe;
that breathless silence is
the music of the dark
and it's part of the rhythm
to vanish like a spark.

Wislawa Szymborska
poet, essayist & translator
Nobel Prize for Poetry 1996
"Entropy"

Sort of San Francisco Fan Club

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Where am I? She asks .... I am here, and there

2 comments:

Something special ....

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Romance, from Fram

The Actual Instant of Love, from Fram

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Time retains ....

Yesterday is History ....

Never the answers

The equality of man

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I am free

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Once upon a time: "She said, There is no reason ...."

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