Page 31 - The First Letter To My Lady.

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“A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect

plan executed next week.” Said a seasoned World War 2

general, George S. Patton, but what better did they know!

Wartime doctrines aren’t fit for peacetime didactics, or are

they? I, vociferously, call bull. And so, I dawdle, dawdle on

for days and days. Looking for a way to build a time machine

- looking for a way to build a wormhole. Looking for a way

to break this time-space continuum of the timeline where

I’m prisoner to a world without you, in a year without end.

“Cliché”. The one word that drove the life of me, and scared

the life of me. That I couldn’t stand being in a ten-mile

radius of; anything that echoed pallid hues of banality. And

now more than ever, now that I strived for you quite like so.

It proved impossible to sit in digital cubicles of buzzing

packets of tip-toed tapping condensation. A Christmas Carol-

ian Scrooge-esque bromide of humbug. Cynical, much.

“Altruism’s a myth”, rang through my apprehensive

contemplations. There’s no such thing as a selfless act, now is

there? Where am I going with all this writing? Am I

burdening an obligation upon you? Is this grooming? Am I

that selfish? How blind can my hubris make me? To keep

penning words down an echo chamber while you grind the

real hours - while you create real impact. I just, I just feel

walled up without a sun. The sun that’s you.

I wither.

Nevertheless, all I hope I could at the very minimum do- - is

to make a statement, a mark, a marked monolith that proves

it once and for all, that carves it in limestone… That you are a

supernova of a muse. That the immortal works of literary

geniuses that you & I so adore,

Could just as well be written about you.

Yours,

R

Esq. May 2021