A Walk with Life

The journey began with me, ever the whimsical pirate, setting eyes on the target and feet on the ground, fumbling and stumbling with that tiny pair I'd got, and declaring savage war on the tinier footed red army perched atop the clay hills, ultimately capturing two of their soldiers before bravely going down - into my mother's arms, both of us jubilant at the victory, celebrating with a loud giggle, and a heartwarming smile, making it the most pleasant, and the most memorable fall either of us ever had.

The journey continued, hand in hand with the first girlfriend, walking the narrow tree-lined alleys behind the school, both kids in shock and awe at the opposite sex not being so despicable after all; talking mush, not knowing much, turning red, walking on anyway.

Time flew to the final days, and nights, of university, companion changed to the quintessential best friend, and the journey went on, with two young men walking down corridors, and down memory lane, reliving their hilarious antics, worrying about pending test scores, lending life some precious advice; all the time hoping to delay the incongruous bend in the path.

Life propagated, roles reversed, and here I was, walking life, alongside my little girl, dropping her to school, taking her to the swings, watching cartoons, hiding from mommy; here I was, reliving the beginning of the voyage, enjoying it more, praying for it to last longer.

The road moved on, so did I, walking with the love of my life, with grey hair, and with high spirits; closer to this companion than I ever was to the others, laughing more than I ever could with the others, the journey continuing with this walk-eternally beautiful, endlessly fulfilling, yet... not for ever.

Today I see this journey conclude, memories being given away as souvenirs, as I walk away, into the dark; as I walk away, on another voyage, as I walk, inevitably, alone. . .

Moonlit

I...
The unabashed winner, having things my forsaken, forbidden way, bending fate, redirecting destiny to suit the vanquishing inconsistencies of my whims…
For once… I've lost, and this once, I know, will last for ever.

I…
Used to winning these staring contests with my oldest comrade in nocturnal nadirs, he batting the first eyelid, giving in to the piercing reach of my self-righteous, subverting gaze, surrendering into the mist…
For once... I've lost, and this once, I know, will last for ever.I close my eyes. I open them. I'm awake.

.....

I see him, up there. I see the familiar round face, the perpetually expressionless eyes, the numb yet gentle glance; its luscious luminosity irradiating the horizons with more than white light. I see the glance, once a cherished reminder of an expectant evening; now an intriguingly intimidating, excruciatingly empty stare; a spiteful one that seems to have questions, unanswerable ones, a stare brazenly betraying the broken heart of the solemn starer. I see it, with the hazy, fluffy clout that ought to accompany it on nights as these, nights seemingly of doubt, possibly of remission, expectedly of retrospection.

I'm awake, I'm aware. In the middle of a keen staring contest, and in the midst of the woods and the remains of my erstwhile car, I know I've lost. More than the contest. And the feeling , however unruly, however unresolved, is no longer new.
I've known it since the night had just begun, the night that has continued without cease, superseding days and months, rebuffing light and life.

The night that was preceded by the most ethereal twilit sky, witness to the eternally beautiful reunion of the red of the sun with the blue of the seas, scattered with the beaming, twinkling joy of the stars coming back to check on their favourite children.

The night whose earliest memory, painfully graphic in its imprint on my mind, continues to kill in parts, and whose remorse, shockingly sullen in its attempts at purgation, remains an insufficient customer of redemption.

The night that began with an expecting yet awkward silence characteristic to lovers aware their differences should have been settled much earlier; that saw the long emotional embrace that a long missed, dearly loved one deserves; that witnessed two quiet, sober adults turn into two loud, excited high school pals with a sudden realisation of their immense love.

The night that saw two people in love, kept apart by humane mistakes and inflamed egos, finally come together; that saw them share the love of a lifetime in a few precious moments; that could not help but revel in their revived affection and renewed vows; and that should have done nothing more than raise a toast to and give way to the dawn of their reborn relationship.

But maybe I had won for too long…I had to lose this once. This once, that set in a year back, right here, in the midst of the woods, in the remains of my erstwhile car. Right here, with her life leaving her in my anguished arms, and leaving me to face the night, alone…

I'm awake. Wish I was not. Wish I never had to be.

.....

I close my eyes. I open them. I'm awake.
I look again, up there. I see the familiar face, the other one this time, the other of the only two that I ever knew to be all mine. I see the eyes, overwhelmed with the pain I thought mine, and now know to be shared. I see those eyes, hazel, deep, moist, overwhelmed with the same effervescent love I noticed in them when distance was never imagined to be a factor. I see the glance, the same quietly mischievous, alluring glance that would make me give in to anything it ever asked in the many years and the few moments in which I lovingly and gratefully experienced it. I see the glance, to feel the affection of which for a few lost seconds, I know I would trade away the remaining of my time.

I see it, I feel it, the glance, her glance…betraying her broken heart. We look at each other, into each other. We feel each other, hearts broken not so much by the distance between us, as by the pain of the other. I see her smile, the benign smile of the benign woman I knew, and know, to be mine, the smile that wouldn't kill the pain, but would certainly help cure it.

I know why she's here, I see the love, and the pain, in those eyes, I know what that smile asks of me…

…..

I close my eyes. I open them. I'm awake.

I look up, again. I see the familiar face, the one that belongs to my nocturnal comrade, the expressionless eyes, the numb, gentle glance… but there's also the familiar, benign smile, behind it…subtle, but present…to watch over me, to be my companion, my keeper, my moonlight...

I'm awake, I've lost, but this is not the end...

The Dream

There he is, the prince, in his palace, the breathtaking new beginning to architectural renaissance, the most eloquent rendition of love ever built, the reinstatement of glory never lost. There he is, with his princess, the most fluent of the Lord's creations, the most flawless of Nature's beauty, the most entrancing of beings ever known, and unknown. There, he is.


And then, here he is, the prince, in his palace, not the most eloquent rendition of love ever built, but, without doubt, a rendition of, and a witness to, the most expressive, the most ornate, the most immersing love ever shared. Here he is, with his princess, the most precious of his one treasure; to him the most lovely expression of art, the most beautiful of inspirations ever inspired, and uninspired. Here, he is.


There, he, on his bed of roses, with his golden maiden curled around him, long asleep, ethereal as ever, her chin comfortably perched atop his shoulder, her silken hair caressing his rugged beard, her exhalation quenching his chest's thirst for warmth, her slender arm moving with it with his every breath. There, he,  on his bed of roses, staring into the golden dome, questioning the diamond chandeliers, searching his soul.


And then, here, stretched across his bed, with his golden maiden, long asleep, her face turned away from him, never once touching, feeling; depriving him of love once eternal. Here he is, lying wide awake, on his bed, not much more than a hammock, staring into the sky through the many, and the only avenues of light in this palace of his. Here he is, staring into the sky, questioning the fading stars, searching his soul.


There, he, in all his grandeur, leaping onto his extravagantly embellished equine, taking off to war, to victory, to vindication; leaving his lover behind, taking her love along. There he is, executing her wish, annexing all neighbouring territory, making the princess of his heart the princess of the world. There he is, warring for her ambition, fighting for her love, searching for himself.


Here, he, in his ivory armour, brave warrior of his under siege kingdom, taking off to war, to a probable death, to redemption; leaving his lover behind, taking his love along. Here he is, looking to her for a farewell, for a possibly last expression of her love, for a probably last chance to express his. Here he is, warring for his country, fighting for his love, searching for himself.


There, he is, the roaring lion, the battlefield his own, fighting, killing the 'enemy', searching his soul; seeing his own die, searching his soul; fighting on nevertheless, for his lover, for her love…


Here, a warrior no less, fighting, killing the 'enemy', searching himself; getting hurt, searching himself; fighting on nevertheless, for redemption, for another chance to his love…


Here he is, the last warrior, standing, fighting, flailing, failing…Here he is, closing his eyes the last time, seeing her face in the horizon, the overhead sun blinding his eyes, he, struggling no more to get up or to live, just to have one last look to the horizon. He knows she's coming, to him, he knows she loves him, he knows it; he sees her, in the horizon. He sees her, he breathes, he closes his eyes, one last time…


There, the prince, in his palace, the most eloquent rendition of love ever built, the reinstatement of glory again glorified. And there she is, his princess, the most fluent of the Lord's creations, the most flawless of Nature's beauty, the most entrancing of beings ever known, and unknown; in the arms of another. There he is, victorious, vindicated, winner of the war for her ambition, the fight for her love. And there she is, giving her self, and his love, away. There he is, the lord of the world, suddenly losing everything that mattered.


There they are, the prince, the princess, looking at each other, each searching the other.


There they are, looking at each other. . .the last time. He, drawing his sword. . .the last time.




There, he was; here, was his dream.


The dream he would die to live, and live to die.