Cherish The Thought, Of Always Having You Here By My Side (Oh Baby I), Cherish The Joy, You Keep Bringing It Into My Life (I'm Always Singing It)

--"Cherish", Madonna

I've always found it better to write about someone. I've found that some of my best writing comes when I'm focused on somebody in particular--a muse, if you will. Lately, I've found myself deriding works I write here and aside from here because it seems to lack that certain energy that writing in generalities seems to entail. I don't know why, but when I don't have a subject upon which to heap praise I lose all interest in buckling down and crafting something of a merit. I go through the motions, I rely on old techniques that I know are accessible and familiar, rather than seek innovation and originality. That practice alone makes me feel horrible because I hate resting on my laurels on pieces that I could have written ten years ago, instead of challenging myself to new, spectacular heights that I know I'm capable of.

Tonight I'm sad.

I'm in no particular mood to discuss it now as it has been a very long weekend and I'm still trying to sort out what exactly I think and what exactly I should be thinking. I hate being confused and that's where my brain's at right now. I don't do my best work when my mind's crowded with self-doubt, loathing, and crushed hopes so I'm going to dig up something I wrote about a particular muse of mine that really did bring out some of my best work. And, though other people may not think she's worth comment or even the tiniest bit of feedback, she shall ever remain my lovely girl.

It remains one of the brightest things I've ever written. This is for her, about her, and inspired by what the thought of losing her might do to me.

I WILL NOT FORGET YOU
by E. Patrick Taroc

Flush were the smiles upon your face,
Opulent were the laughs they kept--
Such pure grace even as you slept;
Those blessed memories all return.
Hidden thoughts I again embrace,
Though their spark no longer does burn,
And discover their wealth unmarred
And myself only slightly scarred.
You were the brightest star to fade,
Leaving me alone in the eclipse,
The last thing to have left your lips
And you the last to have touched mine.
No farewells were there to be made
For you said we would ever shine,
That even death could be defied
As long as the love never died.

Now along the rill where we came,
Tiny streamlet which we held dear,
Your meaning becomes just as clear
And swift the times flood back to me.
The small river endures the same
Though its course runs it to the sea
As our love onward does now thrive
Though just one of us does survive.

(08/01/04) Copyright 1994, 2006 E. Patrick Taroc

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers