Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Returning to the Garden of Eros

I think I'm getting better. Healing myself or maybe there's someone or something that's healing me. Then again I wonder if it's healing or an illusion of that? I have been sick for a while now. Getting better always takes time but it also means to leave everything. It means time away from friends, from things that I liked to do usually like photography or painting or just lying down for a rest. Now I'm always sleepless. There's always a storm in my soul nowadays. Or let's say in the past few months but it seems to be subsiding now. Can I say now that I am getting better? That I am getting back to life. Am I in contact with a human being or is it just a dead person like me? Can I have life back into this body? I keep wondering. I think so much it gives me a headache. Then I get feverish all over again. How the rest of my life is going to be effected by that is yet to be seen but it has put strains on my relations with others. On top of that is all the stagnation that plagues Peshawar. At times like these it gets to me in the worst fashion. Am I sick only in the head or is it really a bodily ailment? Heart disease eating the mind? (: I wonder. But I'm getting better and I have to see how long it will last. Can it last forever? This comfort. I have been digging a trench of hate and now when I look over my shoulder I see a mound of love. Could it be love? Or is this mound just a grave for the body of love. I don't know. I think about God. Do I love You God? Do I? I don't know. I have claimed love in the past. So many times, for so many people. Friends, family, earth, this cause or that. But do I love You? What have I ever done for Your love? What have I given in the way of Your love God? I don't know. I am thinking.

What profit if this scientific age
Burst through our gates with all its retinue
Of modern miracles! Can it assuage
One lover’s breaking heart? what can it do
To make one life more beautiful, one day
More god-like in its period? ...

Garden of Eros by Oscar Wilde

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