Ever the fool...

• My ex-wife "kidnapped" my son. He visited for a weekend. I got a text telling me that he's moved in with her. I don't even know where she lives.
• My girlfriend broke up with me. Just dumped me and won't even talk to me now.
• The good ol' boy that I'm forced to work with under the restructuring of the company I work at takes inordinate glee in the twist he gives the knife that's perpetually lodged in my spine.
• I already have insomnia. Now, I can't sleep at all. I'm awake until I pass out, basically.

The Universe is up to her games of benign neglect, again. I relaxed a little with what I thought was a new lease on life and let myself forget. Lessons learned over ages, epoch, eras and millenia has taught her that the cruelest torture that you can apply to a man is to give him a glimpse of hope and then let entropy slowly rob him of everything he has & is...leading all the way up to him losing his life.

The Dance of Veils 
DATE: 12/18/2007 05:58:37

The search for profundity continues unabated (yet unaided) by life. The cusp of a new existence lies tantalizing beyond my reach. For each step I take toward it, there remains a necessary pace. This is scarcely a surprise to me. The universe remains cruelly apathetic to its broken toys...the bully kid next door writ cosmic. 

And, what happens when I stop striving? What do I get when I stop seeking? My dreams return from a distance to dance just beyond reach like some mocking houri...the promise of 'better' peeking, shimmering and beckoning beneath her translucent veils. I school myself to remain impassive. My visage no longer indicative of the roiling frustration and hurt and, yes, lust beneath its surface. It is then that the houri of my dreams that is my dreams shimmies, slips, dances within reach and touches me. The contact is as alluring a touch as any woman has ever gifted the man she loves. I falter. My will is weak. My impassivity slips away. I reach... 

The universe snatches back the veil and laughs so mockingly as she dances away from my touch.  

As I lay crumpled, she kisses me behind my ear so softly. A butterfly landing on a cottonball is abrasive when compared to the softness of the kiss. She whispers in a voice ethereal, yet timeless, "Hope? Ever the fool, dearest psy. Whenever will you learn?" 

In all my struggles against it, why did I never figure the universe to be...a woman?