Quixotic Fatigue.

January 22, 2012 at 5:49 pm (Uncategorized)

On receiving a text message from a friend a while back that smacked of outre, unorthodox,  jaw-dropping philosophy- a thought wearily makes itself apparent in my mind:

I, a philosophile, have tired of philosophy. Outrageous romanticism is cliche to me now. It is jaundiced, stale; and if you like, not for me.

The notion that perhaps I am tired of it does not stir me much. I still gaze apathetically at the world- glasses haven’t shattered and the sky hasn’t been rent asunder.

But then I am reminded of a passage a dear companion made me read out loud, in one of our solitary walks:

”And we watch the rain fall on the window pane

From when we were very young to now when we become very old. 

The winds of change

Befall us as we watch the rain like threads of gold make slippery drips on a puddle where our lives stay a mirrored jagged muddle.

In turn the rain watches us…

Soft and serene;

It’s beautiful face a sheen in a timeless age from where it may soak up a stormy pace and still look unruffled to our ancient wrinkly cuddles.

And we watch the rain, our lives a mish-mash to the end and the rain watches us, it’s freedom unleashed,

Striking and unbent.”

And I think for now, I am still capable of being amused by greater things.


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