When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

RR & A

To be complete is to be dead before you know it. My heart ages faster than the rest of my body. The thought of leaving nothing behind is in anticipation of an afterlife. I can deny God. I cannot deny time.

In a frame outside time I built palaces of white sand in blue light. To write you need to be empty and deprived or full and satisfied. I was neither.

Only the bones are ageing in my body. The flesh is as hungry as ever. I could not be old without the consuming temptation to be dirty at the same time.

The question mark on the fortieth winter that besieged my brow was destined to remain for the rest of my life on earth. I am in no mood to undo my past. Undone by the past I clung to something of it without altering that person in me who is more I than myself.

Indeed, it is self-love that I will not remake myself. Indeed, I’ve gone against nature in embracing the death that comes with love but not the attachment that will perpetuate life with a sense of duty.

Passion is not about creativity. Passion is about transience.

Passion is not about wanting. Passion is about longing.

Minority longings eat my heart and soul.

The umbilical cord that tied me to the past I wished to have none of it in the future.

I dream of leaving the world with the memory of the sound of a spoon falling from the table on a wet floor.

RR & A is a writer and independent scholar. He completed his doctorate at the University of Mississippi in 1997.

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