Zephyr

When I close my eyes I can see only her. Her smile, radiant as the sun. Her long, slender form envelops my being. I am happy when I think of her. Sad when I think of her. Angry when I think of her. Regretful when I think of her. Unknowing, unfeeling I walk on by, until the next time I close my eyes. Whenever I look at a place I've been before with her, a feeling comes over me that I cannot comprehend. I want to go inside and sit in the same place, praying with every fibre that Time consented to move backward for a while, so I could set things right. I want to go inside and sit in the same place and feel the warmth that was once mine own. That embrace which was once mine own, joyfully and freely given to me. That embrace which I have lost. That embrace that I crave, that I need. I wish to God I could never write, because I can write only in pain. I would gladly trade my writing in exchange for peace, for love. Her love. My own one, my Unknown, my Goddess. I see a red door and I want to paint it black. I see colours that have no place in a world where she loathes my very name. I see people happy, and their happiness enrages me. My face contorts in anger, and then subsides. Who am I to feel bad at their delight? They are luckier than I am, and I should thank God that they have that luxury. An ambulance passes, and I pray. I pray that whoever is inside has someone next to him or her who loves him or her. I was foolish, very foolish indeed to think that I deserved love. But, Oh Lord, doesn't even a wretch deserve forgiveness? Isn't there light at the end of every tunnel? Why is it that my light ends up to be a train that runs me over? I close my eyes again, and this time it is on purpose. Somehow I think that punishing myself with pain could somehow absolve my sins. It does not. It never does. I long to go to my great-grandmother - the one person from whom I had last tasted that kind of love - unconditional, non-expecting love. Then I pause to wonder - why am i upset? We are born alone, and we die alone. Nobody will go into my grave but me. When I came into existence and will go out of existence alone, why do I need someone in the interim? Why? The answer is simple. Because I love her. And I will. Always. Even if she does not. She comprises the elements that build my world. Earth, fire, Wind, water and sky. Time is supposed to heal. Why does it not, then? Even if the earth falls out of orbit, if the skies rain blood, if the waters turn into ash and the Wind stops moving, one thing in my world will not change. That one single constant. Her. Her alone. She alone remains in my world. She is my moonflower, my muse, my Zephyr. I was not born to die young, and so I will not end my life. Instead, I will live; live in the hope that someday she understands how deeply hurt I am, and utterly devastated I am that she decided to move away from me. I cannot forget that bond - the bond of love. I cannot. That bond that will forever be mine, and mine alone. That bond, which is like that of the eye and its iris. That bond, which I can never let go of. The simple, yet complicated; tender, yet painful; calm, yet stormy bond of Love.

I will always love you, and only you - my Zephyr