Remembering Orion

Remembering Orion

I wish I understood.

I wonder if Apollo ever understood Artemis, as close as they were, although that’s certainly not the love to which I aspire, and, of course, I’m no Apollo.  But then, except for Orion, that’s as close as Artemis ever came to love (if she ever did) so I guess my quest ought not to be to find her Artemis within, Artemis was not that kind to would be lovers.

So, …

How do I pierce her veil, reach her heart, touch her soul, kiss her lips?

I think we’re different in many, many ways but I’m not really sure.  I hope we’re at least complimentary; it would be pretty bad otherwise.  I certainly feel the irresistible attraction of opposites, magnetically mesmerizing, drawing me in as if I were a mote and she the singularity at the core of my cosmos, her gravity triumphant.

But I despair at piercing her veil.  She’s opaque.  Outwardly open but mostly obscured.  That’s probably not good.  I need to know who it is I love.  Right now the only thing I know is that my love lies unfulfilled.  Perhaps she loves me too but I can’t really say.

Or, remembering Orion, might that be too perilous, at least right now?


© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2013; all rights reserved