Posted by: scintillatingspeck | December 3, 2012

Love in the time of extinction.

It’s a classic tragedy.  In it, there are love stories, and high drama, and the overarching presence of staggering loss.  The theater is filled and the audience is chattering away happily, distracted by the fripperies of the stage curtains, confused by the play, wondering when the plot will start to make sense.  The actors see, unlike the spectators, that the destruction in the final act is colossal, mind-bendingly monstrous, and their voices tremble as they deliver their lines in the performance of their lives.

What is left but to give voice to the tragedy?

What is left but to deliver lonesome soliloquies to the beloved?

My love, my love, not even memory will keep you alive after you’re dead.  There will be no one left to remember. 
My love, make of your life a streak of flame across the sky, a brief, magnificent aurora, breath-taking and brilliant. 
My love, take my hand; let us walk in the woods a while, while there are still woods to walk in.  Let us walk amongst the ferns and mosses, listening to the melodic trill of the wood thrush.  Let us walk in the stream with the crayfish skittering aside and the water bugs balancing on the surface. 
My love, be not afraid of the depth of your anguish, or the depth of your love– their dimensions mirror the other in precise symmetry, singing a requiem to each other that is hauntingly beautiful.
My love, in the midst of the descending miasma, in the midst of the war zone, in the midst of the plagues and hunger, every possession, every hope, every belief, every identity is torn to fragments.  The fragments float on the wind for a moment, resolving into the shape of blood and fire, the shadow of love.  Don’t blink.  The light will be in your eyes until the last instant.

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Responses

  1. Such a beautiful piece.

  2. wow it is beautiful. Sad. True. Heartbreaking.


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