~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XVIII:~

WordWulf By WordWulf, 9th Mar 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Letters

~monarch of the protean towers~Morrison ~human beings with best of intentions may do immeasurable harm~Nietzsche~I am only what lives inside each and every one of you~Manson~winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me~Poe~

~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XVIII:~

~True Confessions/Alienation~

We may be devoured by them, the weaknesses of our strengths. In relationships, what brings us together, attracts us, may rear its head later and tear us down. We must remain attentive and intentional. Even so, we never exist in a realm of control and, unaware, may fall victim to chaos.

After many years, he decided to confess to her that he was from another planet. She probably suspected as much. Actually, he was abducted by earthlings, stolen from his home in his eleventh year. Earth years, that is, where he came from, he was six-hundred-twenty-seven earth-years old.

She was so delightful and he was aware, by earthen standards, he’d been something of a cad. His wish was that she’d choose to keep him once she possessed some knowledge of his dilemma. Where he came from, he was denied community and religion. Denied is the wrong word, he wasn’t exactly denied. Community and religion didn’t exist in actuality.

Well, after researching the herds, he found them contented in droves, crammed into buildings and ballparks, feeding, it seems, off each other’s energy, satisfied, elated even, to be entertained and catered to, sustained by some collective merriment. He realized it would be very difficult to behave himself, that the herds had places for creatures like him.

He found it odd to feel as if he must apologize for being different, as if by design deranged. Curiosity is only accepted when there is the willingness to join and conform, “Come be one like us,” or be found wrong in the buildings with crosses, televisions, telephones, electronic gadgetry. He was mad to touch a hand with nothing in it.

There is no alien explanation for one such as him. He belongs here but not to belong here, on the path of lone wolves and midnight men whose eyes are yellow in dark spaces, assaulted by the herds’ lights while they sleep. One cannot keep what cannot be kept. The committee has not convened that could hold him.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XVII~
~Like a Tear~
~Of Lips, Mother & Wine~

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Comments

author avatar Rathnashikamani
11th Mar 2011 (#)

"One cannot keep what cannot be kept."
I like your letters, I keep them for ever.

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author avatar WordWulf
11th Mar 2011 (#)

That's good stuff.
Thanks!

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