Recursive pledge…

Alone, alone in my mind. Trapped by walls of doubt and fear. Alone I hear the velvet tolling of the Requiem bell and the strident cawing of the midnight-feathered ravens.

Alone I try to compose verses to appease my soul, fumbling with unknown words, unable to describe these strange feelings that, knocking at my door disturb the sad peace of my present, singing strange memories that entice me to write in blood rhythms I thought did not exist.

And as my mind commands my hand to further explore the inkwell of endless words, I watch at the empty picture of my love, a face I cannot remember. A face, perhaps yet to be portrayed…

Alone, alone in my mind I see the walls trapping me crumbling at your laugh, clear as spring, vibrant as the colours of autumn; and I feel your lips upon mine, a ghostly kiss that last the eternity of a heartbeat.

The Requiem bell no longer tolls, the ravens stood still, ashamed of their discordant song. My inkwell is upturned… upturned, spilling words I do not recognize, filling the page with a black mirror that shows nothing. Gone, you are gone, leaving me with silent ravens and a cracked bell, But the memory persist, I still see you with my eyes closed, I still hear your voice beside me, I still feel the taste of your lips…

And like a madman dancing to a tune only he can hear I gather these new words that fill my heart. Words clear as spring, vibrant with the colour of autumn. Like a madman I write, sing and dance, shaping my feelings around you and through you… Like a madman wishing upon a star I try to remember something that has always been here; I try to remember your ghostly kiss, the sweet smell of your skin, your beautiful smile and eyes so dark that seem sprinkled with stars.

Like a conjuror attempting the impossible, like a madman trying to pull the moon to its room I try to summon you to my heart, hoping my words were enough to hold you in my arms. Like a blind man who fervently wishes to see again, I slowly open my eyes, terrified to see only the black mirror of the spilled inkwell.

My heart skips, tears run down my cheeks . You have come; or, perhaps, you had never left, waiting with me until I had the courage to see… I try to speak, feelings clutching at my throat, burning desires I want to share with you alone; but you hush me with a kiss, saying “I know”…

I have found you… now I pray like a madman never to forget you.

~ por Caronte en Febrero 25, 2009.