Monday, September 23, 2013

Empedocles as muse

There was a moment today, when Empedocles walked out of the library. (It wasn't really Empedocles. That's what I'm calling him; he's a mountain climber, a writer, a musician, and my latest addiction, but the name fits. I love every conscientious word that comes out of his mouth. I love his silences.)

He walked up to me and for a split second his eyes were full of this softness and vulnerability that left me in a puddle on the sidewalk. You'd think I wet myself or something, but no, I just melted.

I have a dear, dear friend who is advising me as I go. She loves both of us and knows that I can't stop the tidal flood, that he is skittish, and that in reality grad school is in the way of anything longterm for either of us. He's vocalized that he's wary of dating. I've texted that he is one of my favorite people and that I want to spend more time with him. We are both temperamental, somewhat solitary, definite creatives with addictive life patterns and the defeat of still working on our bachelors degrees and being single in our late 30s. My friend has encouraged me to let Empedocles know that I'm not looking for anything between us beyond his application process next spring to grad schools. I don't know if I even want to say that much. It will unfold or it won't.

In Poetry today we discussed Orpheus and the necessity of love, loss and longing. It was all there in that lightning flash of his green eyes. Or was that just what I was feeling?

I have a que of pieces to write at the moment. A gothic blank verse piece paralleling mental illness and lycanthropy, a philosophy paper on the real Empedocles and the genesis of the four elements, and another poem, free verse, on having coffee with my Empedocles.

Even if nothing more than continued friendship happens between us, he is the new muse.

He is the element.

We are climbing together again this coming Sunday.

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