It's a Little Early for The Valentines Day Masacree

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings


It's beautiful isn't it? ee cummings is one of my favorite poets, and this is one of my favorite poems. When someone asks "what do you want out of life?", it's not money, or fame or success that comes to mind(though those things would be nice). What I crave above all other things is that poem. I want to feel that way about someone, and have someone feel that way about me. Those who have found it I envy with a dark slimy green intensity that sometimes catches me off guard.

Some would say it's a fairy tale, that there's no such thing as that kind of devotion, but for as long as I can remember I have believed that I was destined to find that one great love. Even now, at my age, and being so very very *sigh* very single, I still buy the "happily ever after" bit. Maybe I'm being naive.

Naive? Okay, I'll admit it, but I'm also afraid. In my deepest darkest most secret place, I'm afraid I'll never find it. What if there is something intrinsically wrong with me, and I'm simply not capable of being open enough to let someone in? What if, deep down inside, I know this and I'm using weight as the ultimate weapon for shutting people (men) out? How does one go about unravelling something like that? How does that naivete and that fear manage to coexist?

My head hurts.

This was going to be a quiet little post about a beloved piece of poetry, but obviously I've digressed into a swirling pit of poo. So sorry Mr. Cummings. I'll hold my naivete close for now, and quit while I'm ahead before I start ripping the wings off of the Tooth Fairy.