My Lady Ophelia
I’ve been thinking
about the old days. Ya know, when the world turned 360 and Ophelia was putting
in one hell of a fight. She took a
pretty good beat down on that last one.
Every so often I catch a glimpse of her, quiet, alone. The thought of approaching her paralyzes
me.
I loved her once, her spirit, her fire, her inevitable
surrender. Then, she shattered her truth
with obsessive precision and bled on the fragments of her reflection. The betrayal of hope is unyielding.
Is it my need to be desired by another human being? Is it the lingering fall out of our first
moment? Is it the paralyzing fear that this is my very last chance to open my
heart and accept the possibility of happiness?
She quelled the turbulent contemplations between doubt and
desire
her resolve to surrender for the promise of and
quietude.
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