{ PREVIOUS {} CURRENT {} NEXT }

Well Wishes
July 23, 2010

Paul Valery has said, "Follow the path of your aroused thought, and you will soon meet this infernal inscription: There is nothing so beautiful as that which does not exist."

What does not exist for you? (via Prompt)

I've always been told not to address the reader openly. Not to speak out at them because it's condescending. Because the reader doesn't like assumptions made about them. Saying 'you' implies I know something about the mind of my audience --something more than I'm letting on. All of this said with a tone of self importance, with a basis in the same knowledge they claim I shouldn't spout. I think that's ridiculous: all of these rules in writing because people are afraid to take chances. Because they're afraid to say how they really feel.

Here, I speak to you because I'm unafraid of judgement. I speak to you because it helps to have someone to direct my diatribes at. I speak to you because you're listening and because I need someone to listen. I speak to you because you respond. I speak to you because you're forgiving, and forgiveness is so hard a thing to find. I won't say that it doesn't exist at all, but that it wiggles from your grasp before you've even gotten a good look at it.

I can barely hold on to it. I've glimpsed it a few times, gotten close enough to reach a trembling hand out, run my fingers across its brown, but it eludes me, mostly: slippery, quick, smart. I know so many people are guilty of focusing on their own culpability in a situation, myself included.

It's all I can concentrate on, when the situation has started to curl itself up, like a pill bug, prepared to roll downhill. My thought process goes something like this: What's going on? What's happening? Oh God, this can't be happening. Oh God, this is happening. Why is this happening? What did I do to make this happen? What can I do to change it? God.

I want it to exist, not because it's easier for me, but because it's a beautiful thing. It's an ideal that I think should plant its feet more firmly in the foreground of our minds. It should become more than an ideal, more than a dream or a hope or a prayer. We have to forgive ourselves, because if we can't, no one else will ever be able to.


Layout, words, & such © Rosaline Mohr. { PREVIOUS {} CURRENT {} NEXT }

Poetics is the emotional outlet of Rosaline Mohr. First and foremost, it's a journal for my frustrations, letters, and short stories. It's an exploration of feeling and introspection. For my poetry, click on over to Poetymology. Or check out my haiku.



A brief biography can be found here as well as a pretty extensive contact page, should you need to reach me for any reason.



If you're interested in some of my recommended reads on Codexed, try this page. You can find a list of project journals here.



The archives will take you to a full list of entries, a few of which are protected. You can e-mail me for the password.



All words, layouts, and other content © Rosaline. Poetics is hosted by the lovely Codexed. To sign up for your own account, please visit the homepage. Or, to learn a little bit more about the community, check out the forums.