Amity, jealousy, relationship, compromise, diffidence, and brazenness when sewn together, becomes a ball of fluid blend with interweaving strings of dissolutive harmony. If I had a wish for tonight, I would have wished the strings not be sewn but threaded, the fabric not be coloured but dyed, and the cloth not be knitted but unraveled. So that I could see what I have been wearing myself with all this time of trying out the ambiguous apparels from the same wardrobe of constancy.
It is very difficult when all the bits and pieces involved in the making of the garments are spawned from the uncharitable and false hearts of men. In my calm and calculating mind, I wonder if they are the progenies of past profligates, whose only source of enlightenment and pleasure come from that of marring the bearer with licentious livery.
But it is what it is. People are who they are and every fabric in the master tapestry of amalgamation serves its own intention. The union around the draperies lined with untried and untested honesty. The embroideries within filled with adulterated integrity. These are the qualities of fabrics I adorn myself with in recent times.
The veracity of vile vehemence vexes my vigour and verve vividly.
So to what end I endure and provoke myself to continue serving out unconditional affection? There is no point in continually garnishing myself in the warmth of these outfits within, and take pleasure in the smooth comfort of the silky fabrics without, when they lend substance to the silky tongues to which my ears and eyes and essence were so deceived lately.
It is the attachment that makes it painful; unbearable most of the time but heart wrenching every time. There is no point in feeling so indisposed toward this company of frauds who could care no better for other people’s sentiment, less I be disposed during emotionally heightened moments.
I only fear now that I may be on a path to a semi-cloistered life but given the alternative, I know this reclusive realization is the higher road to take. It is after all, only pertinently personalized for the fakes, the coy, the boisterous, the conceited and the vain. I do not think loneliness will ever be a problem. It becomes a form of privacy; devotion to the deserving only.
It is no longer a wonder to me, how I feel about all this. Because of them, it made me appreciate the meaning of attachment, and the waste of it.
It may be that one of the worst things in life is attachment; because it hurts when you lose it. So is it sardonic to think that one of the best things in life is then loneliness? Just because it teaches you everything and when you lose it, you gain everything?