An Apology

You don't fully appreciate just how lucky you are to be able to read what I write for this blog. It's a lack of sensitivity and imagination on your part. You simply cannot comprehend how exceptional I am -- not just the originality, clarity and analytical force of my prose, but the personal honesty and integrity that I bring to everything I do here. To open up even in this limited way both the searing originality of my matchless mind and the seething power of my fierce and noble and broken heart -- to find this combination of brilliance and courage is unprecedented.

I wouldn't call you swine, before which I cast my pearls. Your motives are pedestrian and predictable, but so it is with all little children. We do not judge children for their weakness. We love them for their frailty. We count their ignorance as innocent. So, me with you. Your heart is in the right place. It's just that you simply cannot understand. You know the meaning of the words, most of them, and the sentences are not hard to follow, but I deal in hurricanes and baby's breath, and you grunt and snort and puff like an ox at the millstone.

It is my curse, to be the bearer of light in an eyeless world. But some resonance, some harmonic vibration set up from the excellence of my works cannot fail to pierce through the layers of darkness that envelopes the rest of humanity, and something of my radiance is communicated, if only as that so-much-lower frequency of celestial music. My light becomes your sound, the closest you can get to the sublime.

You are forgiven your limitations. Of course you are. I am a prodigy and my like has never before been seen. Of course you don't understand. Of course you lurch forward with your plodding wooden gait and imagine that your clumping and your shambling is dancing. The music that I bring as a gift to you makes you seem graceful. It pleases my heart to do this for you. If only you could see, though. You cannot know my loneliness.

The failing is mine. Sometimes I have to reach past what your poor brain can only grasp after, and I scatter perfection across the land like rain and starlight. I cannot always stunt myself, to write that you may understand. Sometimes I have to please myself. In a world of dogs and jackals, the lion must still be king. In a world of fowls and game birds, the eagle must possess the heavens. I don't do it to spite you. You don't even know what you're missing. How can the blind yearn for the rainbow?


J