Monday, 19 March 2012

The writings of Sunny Caane (2)

There are something I have no hope for. I have abandoned any notion of ever attaining them, so I no longer entertain them in my mind. Although, these things I would like very much, that made me dream of them so long - now I know that any hope in ever attaining them is like a hope in the wind. I need not tell you what these things are I know them perhaps you do too. A little imagination should bring you close. But I do have hope in many things of which I shall hope for till my death. 

Light rain in the morning after vivid dreams of a new fancy while the old one remained strong. He (Paul) desired to say goodbye after missing the opportunity the night before. He awoke fresh in the morning with an aching heart. He packed, then went to the bus-top to begin his mission. He wondered how she will receive his gift whether it was easier for him to drop it through her letter box with a note. This was to be his second plan unless she's already left for home. Regardless, 'I must be brave' he thought 'and do this noble task more out of friendship than fancy. Everything about her heightens my senses, whatever her need as soon as I know of it, my mind can never forget as it does so easily with others. My motives are pure, and I fear she may decline but the journey and the thought brought me much sweetness and happiness.'

His heart felt strangely warm in giving her the gift. 'To my shame' he pondered, 'I only surveyed that wonderful face for a brief second but it is etched upon my mind able to last me for my duration apart. Pictures wont do nor videos, for nothing can substitute the joy of being present in her presence watching every move in grace, beauty and simplicity. Were I to describe the joy inside me, I feel I cannot but smile and blush. A day away is a day too long but a week is like the starving of my soul. Perhaps this is what I need - through harsh discipline she would be starved from my heart and finally I can do away with this unrequited love.'

Paul was a happy fellow constantly moved with a zeal and passion for humanity. He is a dear friend of mine and of him I can only declare praise and bid happiness to whom he finally settles with. 

There are some I’ve looked which sore my eyes, and some I’ve heard who sour my taste. I speak of no looks nor speech but the awful spirit which indwells them in. I am reminded of Ruth, a rash, unholy, un-thoughtful girl who in her youth was very much a bully. She had no taste for anything nice and found much pleasure in bullying. She almost imitated the devil, lying and hurting those who only wanted to go their own way. But she had to stand in their path and cause her existence to be noticed through terror.

Such sweetness never have i known in a discourse that occurred between me and her. All my being were like that of a fountain, overflowing with joy and pleasure. Oh dreary heart, we have a more sure reason to live, a more sure passion to fill. The air was as light as I ever known it. Oh I love, I love and love, but I cannot help but feel she was disappointed with me - I wish I was a better man, a wiser and more playful soul who delighted her soul. I well much wanted to kiss and uphold her. Such fancies which I have long held the extinguisher to the fire, have in a quick season reignited again.


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