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Chasing the Equal Sign

February 4, 2007

We are two parallel lines
that meet while sitting down,
our foreheads touching
like the sides of a triangle.
We trade thoughts through
this illusion of an apex,
and I, in awe, notice
that there is precision
in the subtle ways
you hold my hand.
Your eyes dare me
with mathematical equations
that only have one right answer.
The angles of your mind
rest on black and white premises
that form a concrete
wall of syllogisms that
mock me every time
you speak my name.
You are undaunted and unabashed.
Even so, I smile
at all these numbers
streamlined to fit your life
knowing that this is the only time
I can meet your eyes
without having to calculate.
For when we stand,
our foreheads will no longer touch,
the triangle will shatter and we
revert back to parallel lines
that will never meet.

I am left to face the incongruence of it all.

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15 comments

  1. “your eyes dare me with mathmatical equations…”
    Sweet
    Thanks for the link. I shall, with glee, recipricate. Always good to make new freinds.


  2. man, i haven’t read a piece like this for a while…it’s like i look at a mirror…from a point where i cannot see my own face…and i see the many ways we care…and the many ways we find to hurt each other. i see good intentions, for some reason, not meeting where they do not clash. i see how space can be a gift, or a curse. i see how it can hurt the giver. i see words unspoken.

    i look again, as to a mirror. i still don’t see my face, but i see where i have been.

    and i see…how love has so much to answer for… on judgment day.


  3. ozy: thanks for dropping by 🙂 i like making new friends too…

    thanks ree. It is hard… chasing after a moving target. It is just as hard if you are the one leaving someone behind to follow you. Sometimes it feels like Zeno’s Paradox… That there are infinite points between where I am to my destination… As if I will never reach it… in time.


  4. sometimes, i go into this cul de sac in my mind, where i stash those thoughts of mine that seem pat…those thoughts like avenues inviting exploration. i pick up up one, like now, and it says, “a thinking lover is a doomed lover.”

    we go into love with vast hopes, however we claim otherwise, and the higher they are (the ones we cannot express go highest), the harder we fall.

    people like these, caught in times like these, end up more acquainted with abject misery than glorious love.

    infinite points, indeed. and maybe they make sense – these people who vow that the very journey between is what feeds soul and heart.

    oh my, you just made me think again. stop! go find someone to forgive, way beforehand, and then see if he recognizes the burden you just dumped on him, and if he does, then he might become a joy. ::wink::


  5. haha true. but that would be too easy…to forgive beforehand. The chase loses its meaning. I’d rather explore for a while until i meet someone on the same road who does not recognize my expectations as a burden, but rather an inspiration to join me on my road. And if he holds my hand or helps me find shade sometimes, I think the joy will follow :p

    “Love is the expression of one’s values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.”

    So here we are again… This damn chase IS hard. hahahaha


  6. On the contrary, friend, forgiving beforehand can be the hardest thing to do…for someone as contemplative as you. think about it.

    That quote there — it’s just another way of saying that we need to be complete, in ourselves, first, before we can go about chasing someone, or be chased, to share with. And that might be the hardest thing of all, coz, often, we gotta go inside ourselves and forgive that part of us that has always asked for a lot, bring down those arms that have always ever reached for the sky.

    And meaning? Just the other day, I told a woman I love that meaning was ever in the journey, not the destination, and meaning does take shape in both misery and joy…and what would one mean to us without the other, eh?

    Carpe diem, you know? Buckle up, or dare the wind to etch tears on your cheeks, but seize the moments as they come. As for those who can’t keep up, bury the hurts they cause you, and go on and don’t turn your head to look back. Some loves just ain’t worth turning into a pillar of salt for. Life’s too short, otherwise.

    So says another oracle. Hah!


  7. Darn, but I’m getting old. I was just reading backwards on this dialogue, and I saw redundancy on my “spits”. The last two days, I had to console two broken-hearted friends out here (it cost me my sleep-hours between work-shifts), and what I told them must have carried through coz I’ve been repeating it until I’m finally believing it — know what I mean?

    Man! The things we do for love.

    Won’t have it otherwise, though. Being by myself’s the most boring exercise I can think of.


  8. true true! anyhow everything is up ahead be it joy or tears. There is beauty in sorrow I think, because then it makes a smile more free and a laugh more beautiful. and i agree with ya… i wouldn’t have it any other way 😀

    The things we do for love indeed… sigh.


  9. this is a very good piece; smartly written. unencumbered by emotion, you can assume a wryness as you recognize positional impossibility. salud!

    if only we can, as with throwing a switch, divorce ourselves from our own dilemnas…i think we would all have a better chance at creating optimum conditions from just choosing a state of being. hmm…am i making sense?

    how’s this? i postulate: desired conditions come as a result of happiness, certain conditions are built as a result of love. we build from what we choose. sounds old hat?

    take a person who has, all his life, believed that his now was the sum and total of what had been done to him. he thinks he is a victim. he chose to be a victim. take another person who has been abused all his life, and at a certain point, he decides, soul and all, not to accept that limitation, but to assume — nay, to consciously choose — that he was capable to choose to be happy, and then seeks to create the conditions to maintain that happiness. what makes better sense?

    you meet someone at a crossroads. both of you agree that, together, you make up an equal sign. you apply the logic of the symbol to your relationship — it seems fitting. and then, carried by the seeming logic of it all, you both go your own way, perhaps with some mutual regret.

    or you could see that both of you, despite what you each have been, could mutually choose to create certain conditions from a mutually-agreed departure point — from your happiness at meeting mirror-selves, and vice-versa — and then you act on it…knowing that change was always a choice you can consciously make anytime.

    we can take this postulation apart merely from prejudice or from a position assumed from prior conclusions seemingly unassailable, or we could explore it with minds that are open to what we are and what we want. or maybe i’ll just pretend this poem was a tree whose trunk i could throttle for making inroads into my brain when i haven’t had a shower yet.

    i believe that there are no victims. there will always be certain points in our lives, junctions, where we can choose; and then choosing, use the elements of that choice into building blocks to realize the very conditions you desire.

    incongruence…it is a bird on a twig watching a leaf fall by. but then, if it chooses, it can fly, swoop and pluck that leaf, and make it part of a nest.

    .:: from the mind of this planeswalker, to yours


  10. Ah choices… yes in the end, everything boils down to that… Man’s ability to control his life. Ultimately he sets into motion… the ingredients for the resulting cake, (forgive the analogy, this turtle is hungry. hahaha)

    But then as always, it takes two to tango. Insofar as the desire to form an equal sign goes, there is incongruence when the desire only comes from one side of the equation. Such has been the age-old postulate of anything unrequited.

    So then we continue walking down the winding paths and open roads. There will be an occasional fellow traveler or so. We choose our own junctions and turns and can only cross our fingers that our traveling companions shall pick the same path, whether it’s because they are going the same way or that they just want to accompany you for a little while longer.

    Either way, its the one choice that will never belong to me


  11. turtle, i have a question:
    why is it that all your statements begin with “ah”? is it a carapace thing?


  12. ah…sounds like a buddhist moment ::innocent grin::

    “either way…the one choice that will never…” ? oh my, sounds like that was meant for somebody? passivity is this turtle’s carapace, too? turtle…then moth/butterfly…dunno if i should speculate…but would be interesting what creature will loom by your soul next, mash…

    dog? tiger? the animal farm has been in my mind lately…my apologies…


  13. *stops chasing tail and starts growling*

    Hey, hey, hey. No usurpation of animal identity!

    *runs after pockmarked ankles, with fangs*


  14. Asymmetry in symmetry;
    Of equations and geometric relativity, as to physical variables.

    Cosmic perversion: commands me to ponder; two horizontals lay equated underneath satin sheets, contemplating how many diverse polygons they could generate…hmmn!

    *needs to take a cold shower*


  15. A friend of mine once said that parallel lines do meet. At the horizon. “Ah the vanishing point,” I said. Well that’s exactly what it is… a vanishing point. Try chasing after the horizon and see if that gets you anywhere. Better just sit down and watch the sunset

    ree: haha guess you’ll have to keep planeswalking to find out what manner of creature I’ll pull out of my shell the next time around

    lee: Horizontals dont need to be equated. They can be parallel, perpendicular, and oblique. it would make one nice graph on the Cartesian bed err.. plane. hahaha I think I’ll go dunk my head in a bucket of ice.



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