Its those moments, where everything else just fades into the background. All you can see is her smile, and all you can hear is her voice. When youre looking down the last hallway of the maze youve been running for years, and you havent taken a step yet. Youre just looking at the light breaking into the morning for the first time, like youve never seen the dawn before. For that brief moment, all the darkness is forgotten, all the sadness and pain that youve suffered is lost in the fog as you stop to admire the very reason you kept going through it all. And now that you can see the light, youre not looking at the ground or the walls anymore, because there is nothing that could stop you in that moment. Shes talking about yesterday. Her words adrift on a slow-rolling river of consciousness. I keep hearing the same echo in my head. The promise of it tastes as sweet as anything ever has. Im looking at the woman I love, marveling at the existence of such a thing, the last dream of many that I ever expected to come true. That last hallway could be a thousand miles long, and it would make no difference. Id tread that treacherous maze a hundred lifetimes over for this. I can barely hear the words over the symphony of emotion that accompanies them. Each syllable its own note, and I wonder if I have ever truly heard music before this. I never stopped loving you. No, she didnt. Through the raging storms and countless wars. Through my own demons, through my own drunken tirades against it, she held fast like no other ever had. She earned her place in blood and tears and sweat, and didnt give up even when she was sure I had. I wanted to tell her how she had saved me, how intent I had been on destroying myself before I would ever come to accept less, but I knew my words would only serve to interrupt the beauty in that simple statement. I, the poet, the drunken romantic, could not have stated something as clearly and flawlessly as she had. Nor would I ever be able to express the sheer value of it. The heaven that she built in that single short sentence. The way she breathed life into the nearly dead, the way embers erupted into an inferno in her presence. How so many had tried to quell a fire that she, in a moment that the entire cosmos would model its perfection after, had brought from ashes to the brightest flame. How do you control the chaos, how do you capture the moment a corpse finds its breath? You dont. You experience it, live in it, and you never let go of it. In a single sentence, she had written the ending I was certain I couldnt. A heaven that even the greatest minds could not imagine. She, now as then, had guided me through the minefields of my own thoughts with nothing more than that single flawless expression. And I have found my presence, the purpose behind my prison, now Im watching the walls collapse into the ocean, and realizing that where she is is where Ive always been. Waiting for something to shift the earth we stood upon, begging for the color to come back to the skies, and whether she is aware or not, she has given me that which I have sought most throughout my life. Inspiration. Kindling. A direction to turn my sails, that I might find what lies across these endless oceans. I find myself stretching to reach stars I swore Id never grasp, to find words that dont exist yet, just to describe the feeling of having the fire returned to the place it lights best. My heart, my life, my every expectant breath. I held fast, quiet, so quiet in fact, that even she questioned whether I had heard what she said. Whether I had heard it? Hell, heaven and earth had moved in unison with her lips. The entire world had remained silent until she was finished. If I hadnt heard that, then none of this has purpose. And if youve held on this long, its because you know the truth couldnt be further from that.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 23:54:01 +0000
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