The Long Division of Love

Long Division of Love

The industrial world forms a shadow over the natural beauty which once so occupied my every thought. A song bird must now compete with the wailing car horns and pounding jackhammers. The confines of the city walls, built to confine the streets to a knowledge less sedating than religious faiths, tower over any individual’s ego. Mind and matter scream to touch hands as though they shared the same heart once, and were forced to divide it, aorta for ventricle.

You are given one man. Here, alone this man has one heart, with two ventricles, two atriums, levers and valves and an aorta. It’s a sure work of genius which sets the beat for the man’s life. The rhythm to which his feet carry him, the shuffle into a familiar place, and the gradual crescendo of his pulse when encountering the unfamiliar are all controlled by the metronome of physiology. The perfection of a circulatory system’s rhythm is enough to cripple any musician’s aspirations for greatness. Yes! Alone our man’s circulation is a sheer masterpiece which Beethoven and Mozart together would worship on bended knees with averted eyes.

Ah, but then comes the addition. A building upon this perfection which would otherwise have been unthinkable has entered the equation. With the changing of perfection come outcries from the original observers who wish to preserve the sanctity of the lonely heart.