He laid there, the immense pain in his chest beginning to numb under the realization that he was dying. Just moments before he was alive, enjoying the morning with his beloved, laughing about the memories they had created the night before. Now, he was sprawled out on the living room floor fighting for air, and wanting so desperately to talk.
I am unsure and like a child again searching for her arms, her breast, her soothing voice. The tears I cry are hidden by the salty remains of the wave I let loose on the world, but they are there. Sometimes best cried in solitude, other times best hidden from even the parts of me that want to let them flow.
Ok, fine Universe, I remember the lesson. There is order in this mess, silence in the noise, light in the darkness. Somewhere…find it, search for it, and it will come. Or not.
To me, it is this simple. The mechanism by which a deranged human being carries out his fantasies is not the issue. A man bent on killing others will find a way to carry out is will regardless of what weapon we put in his hand.
In the ending a new beginning
In the loss a prize eternal
I bask in the tears I shed for her
Such medicine the salty rivers give!
Love is the greatest source of pleasure and pain ever created by the Universe. It proves to us we are alive, and gives us such cause to look at ourselves through eyes with both clarity and through clouds of tears. It sums up the human experience provided we experience its opposite, and such a relationship allows us to know who we are.
A story of a tortured boy, the woman who loved him, and in finding the truest sense of who we are.
