On First Love.

Chapter 1

Imagine….Your at a restaurant, an intrigue in form sits across from you. 

They are someone who you do not yet know, but who you will know-very well so.  They aren't touching their food, nor are their utensils being utilized, rather they are looking about, but not in the way you know people to look at things.  Ever so often something catches their eye, wait…no - they’re not looking at it intently; indeed, yes, they are somehow looking beyond it.  You pour over what they seemed to be engaged with…of course…but, either what exist for them simply doesn't exist for you, or your lack comprehension, perception,... or some such thing.  That it is, yes, one of those duly noted phenomenon which has confounded the human race as whole, fascinated philosophers in particular, and been crudely traced upon by those oh so very scientific.  Yes-yes, there have always been those things available to a very few throughout history in such wavering and meticulous ways. It is an arduous magic that exists within our world.  It is access.

You are, in fact, a very perceptive person, though not particularly intelligent.  As usual, you’ve taken note of everyone else in the restaurant, and come to at least one vague conclusion on how they are distantly connecting to the world around them, or in contrast, more proficiently experiencing those relations that exist within the persons and environments around them. Put another way, you observe how they are interacting with their world, their steaks are tantalizing and sardonic if savory; their salads are delightful, tenuous, and compromisingly delicious; their wine free, artfully tasteful, and increasingly individualizing; the pictures and peoples adorning their booth are interesting in their own objective ways or differing in limiting subjective ways.

Why, now that you think about it, most of the people aren’t looking around at all.  They are, and rightfully so, a self whose perceptions are inextricably linked to themselves, from within to without.  When they see you looking at them, it usually seems that they see only what they themselves imagine why or how you are seeing them as, or you as is meaningful to them, rather than you - yourself.

Back to the intrigue.  What is it they know of beyond, that the others do not.  Imagine so,…. you’ve know them along time now.  You are quite close to them.  Deeming teeming food less so, yourself you have.  You are a bit more like them, or maybe just less interested in yourself, but more importantly, you now know what is they have found beyond yet you can’t experience it yourself.  That is OK.  It is beauty they are comprehending in the world around them though you yourself are limited to finding your intrigue beautiful.  You are in love.  Beauty, which you thought so elusive and complex is simple and apparent to them. Someone who sees beauty itself where you see only loosely clipped ideas, you are drawn to them; you drawl. Eventually, You Stop.

This is the story of my first love.  Of their love of poetry. And of my own  disillusion.  Chapter 2 is quite different; putting it together now.