Haiku by Issa

I feel like my moral fiber is tearing. The temptations of the world are weighing heavy on me and for some reason I keep giving in. It's strange that I find reason to fret here, it's always been a strange, self-destructive wish of mine to let my grotesque animal out. I wouldn't say I've gone so far, but I know I won't be proud of these days in the months/years to come. Perhaps this is just another case of me destroying my life as a means to sap what little inspiration it still holds. A peculiar habit of mine, but I imagine there are others like me.

A dear friend of mine has returned to my life. She is a muse in a big way. A painful one, but its such a great thing to feel for someone. I haven't seen her in almost a year, but she stands clear and bright in memory. I imagine a roll of underdeveloped film and this is my year in South Carolina. I remember vague inklings of what I had there, and even these seem to run together. Strangely, though, the recountings of my heart overexpose her. Its a resigned wash, and I hope for not much other than her continued presence in some aspect of my life. You understand, it means so much to turn to her and have her turn to me, and if that's all I can ever have it will more than suffice. I will humbly admit that it's rare for me to genuinely put someone's happiness before my own, but unexpectedly, both in its nature and timing, I find myself doing this for her. I wish her well, always.

This is one of her triggers for me:

Brilliant Moon,
Is it true that you too
Must pass in a hurry
-Haiku by Issa (1763-1827)

I'm in the process of adapting this to song, so far it's going well. I have reservations, though. I wouldn't want to jeopardize her well-being, yet sometimes you can do nothing but to write.