My Quote....

To negate a thought conceived is the demise of endless imaginations ~ Rinaldo

My pain belongs to me....

The pain is quite something, not near enough to pleasure but stimulating none the less. Strange the sting the sensations of deriding the flesh almost unbearable yet a conquest of how much can I bear? Pleasure is more than tolerable yet not always advocated, pain is an awareness of something unkind yet at times warranted for the sake of enabling a conscious awareness of dysfunctionality. At other times pain unwarranted boasts implications of an adverse offensive, a hostility to the flesh from a source not my own.


My pain I can put aside and even to flight but to conquer its effect relies on strength, mind and will. Symptoms masked reoccur randomly therefore the root causes need to be extracted discriminatively without supposition.

Pain is sharp, dull, tight, burning, pounding, agonising, stinging, throbbing, blunt, uncooperative, relentless, rawness and at times cruel ache. To wrestle with it causes more sensation to be still with it subdues it for a time. Momentary affliction is preferred, a swift measure of defeating pain is better than a drawn loathsome inexplicable suffering. I have dealt with the blows of excruciation but nothing like the formidable rejection from the ones you love or death and absence of these you love. A chasm of aching turmoil to the heart and the sickening knot in the pit of your stomach. Anguish and despair attack the fragile heart, riddled with disease of brokenness right to the soul. Recovery is long and hard, some never recover and the heart dies within a crushed chamber.

Pain is a sensation, a sensibility and a raw emotion, whilst pleasure is the very same....both the human condition!

I have Learned...

"As a Chef, I learned you eat with your eyes, as a Drummer I learned you play from your heart, as a Father I learned you sacrifice life itself, as a Husband I learned you love unconditionally, as a Writer I learned that language is dead until experienced and as a Photographer I learned I have seen the world but never observed it until now" ~ Rinaldo

The key...

She bent over instantly as her shoe had just kicked up a small amount of dust which then uncovered a tarnished something in the earth. It had caught her eye. She brushed the dirt to one side with her hand which revealed an old fragile key. Rusted and curled at one end rather large towards the other she picked it up carefully so as not to expose its fragility. A breath of gentle air blew against the key from her lips further revealing its coarse layers of age and rust. The key must have been many decades old and somehow lost from its lock, like a ship from the ocean........


The key ancient mesmerised her, she stared at it as she lay hold of it in a firm grasp. She pondered what secrets it held and who might have been the original keeper of the key. Had the previous owner lost the cherished secrets it secured or had they somehow now been revealed to the world from which they were hidden. Running home, desperate to find something the key could also lock and unlock her mind lay hold of all the memories and scraps of paper which had scribed keepsakes and unmentionable verse etched upon them. These would also now be hidden from the world and reserved as trinkets of sentiment, nothing demure and nothing dark, mere fantasy of a youth spent in solitude with the infrequent glimmer of a social intimacy seldom come, from children her own age.

The key... was a passage to another world, a world of mystery and hidden pleasures, a world of fantastic gesture in which her fantasies became all so tangible to her. As an only child she often confided in her diary and kept secrets too complex and detailed to share with another soul, but often childish nonsense to the rest of us!

The Key is of no consequence or value except to the beholder, for what is cherished and stored securely with lock and key is validated only by the heart ~ where secrets are locked and revealed, by the single turn of a key!

A Labour of Love!

"An excavated love is one that is not worth having, for in the dig does only one put forth enough labour to unearth it and then toils constantly to sustain a flawed love! But a love between two which has evolved from seed, grows and flourishes. Its beauty prospers and produces grand generations" ~ Rinaldo

"With too many regrets, my future years have I squandered" ~ Rinaldo

HOLLOW!

There's often a sensibility about her, soulful, smiling disguising the inner pain, a private wound and hurt. She no longer lingers about the night in bars waiting for Mr. Right, no! despatched and armed with girlfriends she walks the empty aisles of black and white film genre to familiarise herself with love.
Children now grown still accompany her at times, she delights in them and always covetous to fulfil their dreams herself, she lives her life through them and the quaint offerings of the lonely hearts club that take seldom journeys to the local bars and restaurants in the hope of being seen and adored once more.
Hopes are dashed whilst dreams are forgotten her heart is sick, dying slowly a somber death all the while she masks her pain with a gently smile. She is deliberate and beautiful, elegant and talented but wastes away in the despair of a love lost. Her fragrance is sweet and sweeps through the valleys of her day, noticed by those who merely lust she still wanders aimlessly and is haunted by her inner seclusions. She looks in all the wrong places and now trusts to easily those who mean her harm, stay away you beauty, wrap yourself in His comfort and remain astute to those who are wanton. The nights are alone with many spent by the fire of winters dread, loyalty at her side as mans best friend lays quiet, bringing comfort and relief to her fragile state, she strokes his coat and stares blank at the flickering flames whilst shadows of loneliness dance.

Delicately she maneuvers her body a gentle approach in all she does, refined with simplistic grace, softness and care she contours her every move. She cooks with such significant beauty, succulent is her every meal, nurtured and full of colour as she displays it on a single setting. A candle is lit and a glass of wine sits on the large empty table, she executes an undeniable refrain and eats alone once more. A woman of wonder she must prevail with solitude for now and pursue the search for her long awaited soul mate. The wind is constant, it howls too, for it comes to her but is also empty and brings naught. Rushing about franticly it soon departs in despair, there is no scent....she is hollow. How abate has her life come from exhilarating and charmed to nostalgically remorseful. Sorrow now encompasses many of her routines whilst the sky is blue and the heavens dazzle us with the spirit of love, the sun does beat upon every living creature, yet this one, this gorgeous one! Is shadowed, shadowed, shadowed under the weight of her emptiness and coupled to this adversary, loneliness.