Sketch for a Theory of Persistent Passions iii

Show me something different, Mr Penman! she expressed. I want a look into what they see, what I don’t. Also, show me what they don’t see, what you won’t let them. Show me a little more than you’ve ever let any get a glimpse of. Show me all! she continued.

But how is that even possible? he responded.

It’s simple, just be open and honest. Can’t believe you’d even ask such a question? Not everything has to be philosophical, you know?

I’ve always been open and honest but then when I am they are quick to conclude I’m less than human, as though I don’t have any feelings.

Is that why you can’t commit? Sometimes there is such a thing as being a bit too honest. I can see why some may think your attitude towards ‘love’ is reprehensible. Maybe that’s why you’re still single, she remarked.

But I’m already committed, he retorted.

Explain!

Well, ever since I picked up a pen as a little man
finding myself doing it again and again
and I still do it now as I did it then, way back when… not that it makes a difference
but as long as there is blood in my veins and ink in my pen…
even if they don’t check back in for many years
they can still return and find me here
keeping it moving, improving, ’til I’m on top of my game
that’s what I’m committed to.

There’s more to life than that, you know? That sort of self-centred existence can’t be right!

Right takes many forms, but has one essence. And the essence of love in my understanding is creation. Isn’t that what it’s about? Ultimately, we all just want what we can’t live without and I can definitely live without the overprescribed kind of love, but my craft – that I really can’t live without. Nothing gives me more pleasure and satisfaction…

Still, doesn’t sound much like a purposeful life. As a matter of fact, it just seems a waste of energy to me. Can’t you see you’ve lost all sense of direction?

Direction, unlike energy, is not subject to the law of substance and consequently not a measurable magnitude.

Rubbish!

Reinke-ish!

There you go theorizing again.

Well, nothing cannot give everything meaning so I prefer exploring. And if someday my poems reveal my true passions or someone finds them of some use or the work makes an impression that lasts and becomes art then that’d be a great result but I don’t expect much, just as the kelp ash from the accidental combustion of sea-weed on a sandy beach never intended to give rise to the use of glass…

Alas! I did ask you to show me but I didn’t expect you’d actually let me see through you.
 

© Heath Muchena, 2016

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