A solitary mellifluous thought swallowed, tormented by the silence of my walks in black and white. The sound of it’s ardent vigor slammed against my mind. I am powerless to change it. I give in, defeated by its path in this melancholy forest. What is this life? What is this conundrum of sunken, expired existence? Questions that merit no response. They are just my pensive journey. There is no end. It continues. It continues. It will continue.
I come up for air from the storm of tristesse to witness the air around me with a hint of grey. The rocks have grown soft now, smoothed out by my bleak eye’s desire to change their natural state. Nevertheless, they match my spirit. I weave into them towards the pond, led by the unlit beacon, looking on living structures holding memories, as if they were flowers. Their petals serpentine in the flow of air surrounding me, no color, just life trying to break free. Still I find pleasure in their monotony, their routine.
The beacon calls to me in this darkness that I feel. It has no light and yet it shines a path for me to follow. Again I am overtaken by the storm of silence, of turbulent ache. I try to release myself from these thoughts that hold me captive. I long so much to take a different journey. I want so much for that beacon to call me as bright as it can, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t. I continue the walk to finish it. There, in the grey shadows of this day, I feel the vivid coldness of the water. My lungs fill and fill and fill. The grey is darker now but I see the light behind it.
Though my view is the same vivid storm of sadness, she appears like magic, takes my hand and rescues me. I feel the warmth in her smile. It beckons me and for a moment there is clarity but then… I remember our life together. I remember how strong the light shone from our bedroom window, caressing her flesh until my mouth ached to kiss it. I remember how her touch made me shiver and set me on fire all at once. I remember how she spoke sweet nothings to me with her blue eyes, how she held me close when she was afraid. I am afraid, but I cannot turn back. She carries me on a different journey now. My eyes closed, my heart open, my lungs filled, my skin wet, my spirit washed by hers. Our love rekindled, our souls hot, such light, such a sweet reunion. I’m fading deeper from this world and into her arms. Death is the beacon I longed for all along. I am free.