By Scott
Date: 17 October 1998

Mixed Signals

The soul's chariot is pulled to one side by the forces of passion,
and to the other by the forces of vigilance and restraint, they say.

But when I gaze into your eyes, this pensive fog is lifted again.
"A false alarm," I tell myself. "Life's cyclical nature, perhaps."

Just a balancing force, ensuring that nothing happens in excess?
But I'm so sick of bourgeois limitations and Juno-esque jealousy.

Why can't we accept that we were made for each other?
That love is a single soul inhabiting two bodies?

Machiavelli said that Fortune is "bald behind."
Once she runs past, it's too late to grab her.

If I reached out to grab you, would you take my hand?