i have lived a life ripe with western, eastern and middle-eastern literature, and for that i am blessed. however, though i have met the literature motif many times, i had not yet placed a name upon it till today - virgin love. it basically encompasses love between individuals (and this is emphasised to differentiate it from love with divinity) where there is no marriage or love-making. i will even extend it to include platonicism, as that is what my middle-eastern background (what little i have of it!) will dictate. and we do away with how practice seldom reflects theory, but forgive this little, hopeless-romantic his small corner of literary poland.
my friend introduced me to layla and majnun, specifically by the poet jalaluddin ar-rumi. i must confess that though i have heard of him before, i had never really appreciated his work. maybe it has something to do with how fermina of the red roses was such a fan of rumi, and how poetic it is that i should find inspiration in his work now that she has passed into the hands of another. and hopefully, i will be better able to appreciate the love for godliness, rather than that between humans, now that i have felt the bitter taste of rejection (also overlapping the mystical 'friend zone', though this serves more humorous value than anything).
i think i shall try reading more rumi in my free time, but for now, there are far more important things to do than dwell on virgin love in poetry. such as falling victim to it in real life. ah, life, how well you mimic art. ah, art, how well you mimic emotion. ah, emotion, how well you mimic yourself.
that is just a roundabout way of saying how ironic my situation is (as is everyone elses, but in different aspects). i wish, though, that for all this confusion, maybe it would be appropriate that my writing some day be synonymous with hopeless romanticism. or virgin love. or at least, unrequited love. something to the extent. as long as it deals with lots of irony and humorously so.
No comments:
Post a Comment