June 25, 1999

Take me now

My eyes roll back, once again caressing the velvet darkness as the pain washes over me submerging me with it's infinite capacity. I reach for the ceiling, my body floating, my mind suspended from threads of shredded nerves. The dark cloak of delirium surrounds me, I leave myself and embark on a journey too long in the making. I lay immobile, my heart gently beating, shrouded in white linen, the signature of the caring hands of a woman. As my tired eyes fixate I understand my time is near. The pain is immeasurable, it holds me in vices, squeezing the very life from my limbs, contracting against my chest, forcing the breath from my lungs. The face of an angel hovers before me, waves of auburn locks cascade upon me, fragrant against my skin, soothing upon my burning brow. It is you, my Princess, my angel, cooling cloth patted against my cheek, your eyes searching mine for a glimmer of the life which fades so quickly. I am lost among the souls on the banks of the Styx, I am here, I am gone, and yet you remain the thread by which I cling to life. I hold your hand, kissing gently upon your slender fingers, wishing only I had the strength to hold and to kiss you once more...
My eyes close, and with the shallowest of breaths I confess my love lest I depart without ever having allowed that rose to bloom. Surely, the cruelest of blows will not befall the most pure of heart, surely, he would not take me from you. Drifting away once again, I call to your memory, the words of a thousand muses cannot describe the pain of impending separation, and yet, at the darkest hour, there survives the last bastion of hope. With lips so soft, filled with the passion of the ages, you lay the sweetest kiss upon my paling skin. Serenity floods my senses, the calm of sleeping child consumes me and I surrender my soul, resigned to the fate that awaits me. My eyes slowly open, the pain subdued, the faint beating of my heart the only sound. I fear that which I sense is the guardian of eternity, the gatekeeper to the gates of Heaven or Hell and I stay, for as long as I can, the image of you burning brightly before me. As your likeness fades, I bid you farewell and step forward to look my destiny in the eye. Yet as the image clears I see standing above me, dripping tears of passion, my angel, my Princess, my love.


"Love is, after all, the gift of oneself..."

-Jean Anouilh, French Philosopher, Author.



Taken from November 1998. I always hated lying. I was good at it though.

"If we are expected to build character, it is only through our ability to make the tough choices that we are to be successful in our quest. Each time we take the easy way out, we weaken our grasp on our true character, and with each lie we tell, we dig ourselves deeper into the hole into which we climb to hide from our destiny. This may seem a tad heavy for such a topic, however I believe that we are built as people not on our monumental achievements, but rather on the daily decisions
that we make that affect our perception, our definition and the depth of our character."




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