Spiritual Taxonomy

There are two types of spirits - those in whose company, immediate or remote, our spirit blooms or withers.

Punished for love

An innocent heart needs to be restrained so it doesn't hurt itself.

With the “age of reason” comes the ability to lock it away in an asylum of reason, where it sobs quietly.

Then the apparent coldness of the host is in fact the face of a warden.

* * *

On rare occasions however, in a futile spasm of defiance, the prisoner gathers all of its residual strength and attempts to free itself by striking the cell door with clenched fists...till they start bleeding. 

The warden doesn't stir, as the dull banging resounds accross the hollow corridors of the prison.

This paroxysm of agony ends as the heart collapses to the cell floor, once again having depleted the last breath of love.

The disillusioned role of friendship

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that a true friend is but a refuge. A healing, illusory sanctuary from ourselves or from the rest of the world, when either of them becomes unbearable.
That's why true friends need to be kept in an existential quarantine, away from all that they are meant to heal - ready to offer their idealised self on cue, whenever we need it. Also this is why the elimination of this necessary isolation ruins friendships or gives them the grotesque intermittent form.

Why do the Muses abandon the heart?

What inevitable curse forces the Muses
to abandon the shelter of the living heart?
What had once flourished with a glittering rhythm of song
becomes a howling pit tormented with ghosts of memory.
Those eternal beauties get weary of this weathered shell
and its dull beat forced by the merciless reigns of night and day,
so they flee, dancing to the quiet, hollow requiem of the soul.