Come now, gather around...

I’ll tell you a saddening tale

Please, leave not behind your handkerchief...

It may keep you well.

- -

Once upon a time,

In a kingdom far away

There lived a prince and his knight

Together in the light

The knight, valiant and

Kind and brave

The prince from the darkness

She had saved

But the love was not the same

The prince found a woman far away

And to her kingdom he flew away

He broke her heart that very day

She was saddened for a while..

Then the knight, weak and sore

Stashed her shield and sheathed her sword

Then to the stars she swore

Not another word...

If she were to fall in love again

She would whisper her confessions to the wind

All the love letters she'll never send

While her broken heart mends.

- -

A song from far away

Resonating in her heart

Filling the space that set them apart

I wish you’d never let me go

Just two words will please me so

Never again, nevermore

Will I hear your precious words

Oil and water have not reconciled

since the dawn of chemistry's birth

neither can, nor will

so too is true

of those that do violence

and live by the sword

they will die by the same means

the Paris Event

indescriminate violence

against the unsuspecting innocent

who simply want to do their business

of living

who want to enjoy Life

who want to live and let live

who bless the world with their love

of humanity

those that live by violence and

worship its means

to an end

of their sinister,

anti-humanity goal

murder of humanity

will not, can never

justify, reconcile,

their horrific actions

with those of the civilized world

the rule of law

benevolent

freedom

or

the rule of law

marshall

totalitarianism

"free democracies

or free KGB"

Gandhi, King, Jesus and

many others like you and me

know that

love and hate can never mix

hate can never reconcile,

only love's persuasion

of hate

maybe

love can mix where there is hate

God is real

he is spirit

he is love

"Love thy neighbor as thyself"

in memory of those

for those who were murdered in Paris

my condolences to

their families, friends

and those worldwide

who believe that love

and only love

can bridge differences

In the one hand:

The good times

The adventures

The butterflies in my stomach

The "I love you"s

The iridescent greeny blue-grey of your eyes

In the other hand:

The bad times

The endless waiting

The rocks in my stomach

The "Please leave your message after the tone"s

The effort from me (100% at least, and glad to have it, I can't tell if you are)

The not-so-iridescent greeny blue-grey of my soul

Both hands can hold what they have

But of the two only one ever need grip tighter at any given time

And more and more it is the first hand that is exhausted from holding tight

So as not to lose what it has

So how on earth am I supposed to reconcile

How you make me feel

With 

How you make me feel?

He said, she said.

But mostly she said. "I'm out," she emphatically stated. She felt controlled by a narcissist, so she left.

She hacked into his AT&T account, and found multiple phone calls and texts from an ex-girlfriend and another woman he had neglected to tell her about.

She couldn't trust him.

So she left.

While separated, he cheated. She stood there in their now-defiled living room, hearing the news fall fresh on her fragile ears, stone cold black shiny gun in her hand, and put it up to her head. She prayed, "God forgive me for what I'm about to do. Take me home."

Before she pulled the trigger, he called, then sent his fellow cop coworkers over to ensure her safety.

After that, she would never be the same.

He cheated, she cheated.

But mostly she cheated. A guy here, two guys there, multiple guys over there. She couldn't stop. She was addicted to the attention from men and she wanted to be degraded. She would suck dicks without question. She would let unfamiliar cocks inside her. And every time, she'd bleed.

Sex was never pleasurable for her. Not with her husband, not with anyone else.

"Why can't I stop?" she'd ask her best friend. "I'm destroying myself. And my marriage."

She was a wreck. Her friend would comfort and encourage, but had difficulty calling her friend out in a blunt and harsh way.

Maybe that was a mistake. Because she got worse. Sexual degradation, drinking, weed. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Angry, hurt phone calls between her and her husband. Once or twice a week. Her remorse was a very real thing, and she'd admit everything to him. He'd swear he loved her, but would call her a whore and magnify her transgressions. He swore she was holding further sins in, despite the obvious fact that she was initiating her fuck-ups with him on a regular basis. If she'd wanted to lie, she wouldn't have given him the information so readily. He put himself on a holy pedestal, despite defiling their marriage bed with a fellow female cop he worked with.

"I feel like you are Gomer in the Old Testament story of Hosea and Gomer. Am I supposed to forgive you and welcome you, as a whore, back into my life? Stay married to you despite your countless transgressions?"

Irreconcilable.

"But I made a vow in front of God."

Irreconcilable.

"But God can make something good out of evil."

Irreconcilable.

"God can redeem this marriage!"

Irreconcilable.

"That's what God does!"

Irreconcilable.

Sometimes the lies we convince ourselves of tell a worse truth. An uglier truth of the utterly despicable parts of our humanity. The parts we shun.

It's the "truth" that we can create God in our own image and thus limit Him when we think we're being pious and correct in our misguided assertions. Our adamant ideas and strongly held beliefs that He can do great things ironically limit Him when even God is saying...

"Irreconcilable."