A Certain Ambiguity

I'm exhausted.
Met the Golden One today.
Months of silence that stubbornly seemed to stretch to infinity. The silence was finally breached.
"Within the next hundred steps that we walk together, you can ask me anything you want." he said.

Like the oracle at Delphi, he has never spoken clearly before. Merely indicated with a sign. Or perhaps it is just that I have never heard him clearly. But I cannot lose this opportunity, this window to the truth.

The cold greyness of the morning perfectly offsets the dissolution of my self. It perfectly offsets my rainbow coloured socks and muffler, which he comments upon, and it perfectly offsets the perfect green eyes that I can never look too long at for fear of bursting into tears.

As always, the romance just appears, without invitation. There are roses of every hue around us. It's the freaking University garden, I tell myself. It's probably the least romantic place on earth for trying so hard to cater to the hundred odd couples strewn across it's lawns in various poses of intimacy. but it isn't the flowers themselves, or the couples, or the dappled bleak sunlight that caresses his hair. It is that roses everywhere in the world remind me of those two roses in his balcony and the loving care with which he tends to them. It is that we are lovers, and friends, and family, and that no matter where we are a private universe of understanding envelops us.

I am simultaneously amazed and skeptical of the love that overwhelms me. I try to detach myself from us and see him as he must appear to a saner person. I cannot. I cannot fathom what it is like to not love every inch of that skin and every single thought in that head.

But at the end of the meeting, I am left with all that was ever my own, a certain ambiguity, the smell of roses and a song in my head.