NATURE OF REALITY | CREATIVE PROCESS
When Did He Lose Her?
Cryptic blunders on the dark side of love
"The science was driven into hiding to escape the impassioned assaults of a blind love; it clothed itself with new hieroglyphics, dissimulated its labors, denied its hopes. Then it was that the jargon of alchemy was created, a permanent deception for the vulgar, a living language only for the true disciple of Hermes.” — Eliphas Levi, Dogme et Rituel de la Haute Magie
It’s not in vain that the kettle screeches, empty on the burner turned hot, on the highest setting. Hollow and hurting, inside the vessel its metal cries for water to fill its purpose, bring it to full whistle. For it’s true: no thing is ever made from nothing. For anything to exist in our world, emotion must be in play, teasing and seducing rigid logic into a dance with steam and motive.
Across the room, arranging two cups on saucers, the Poet registers the screech but first goes on spooning honey, mesmerized by golden hues and impractical thoughts of bees flirting with flowers. Had she been there, she would have come running to the stove, fervid in her rescue to turn it off before the whole damn thing was ruined. Still, he spoons more honey from one cup to another, as if this all meant something. As if — simply — by setting out a dyad…
