From Valhalla, with love

You cry whenever you can, whenever no one’s watching. You cry whenever you don’t have to smile. You cry because you wonder what the maggots think of your lover’s flesh as they gnaw it off his bones. You cry when you picture your beloved turning slowly to a skeleton and then to dust while time corrodes your heart and your soul instead. You cry because you wonder what your lover feels, if he can feel anything at all, what he does, if he can do anything at all. What he suffers, what he wonders, what he remembers, what he forgets. If he smiles or if he cries or is he now just like the dinner on your plate, but for maggots and for worms and for the earth. You wonder and then you cry. And your tears blister my soul. For all I do, is sleep; as if still in your arms. I sleep and I dream, as if your damp strands still caress my fever blistered face.

And in this dream, I dream of heaven.
I dream of heaven, as if it’s inevitable. As if beyond the here and now and eternity is a peace and a place so enchanting, that everything I suffer and I lament will be rendered worthwhile. I dream of heaven like a premonition. In terms of when, not if.

And in this dream, I dream of beauty.
The beauty that surpasses even that of a sun set. Or of a sun rise. Of the pink clouds we saw while driving to the graveyard. Of the red sand that the storms used to raise up through the streets that made the sky look wounded. Of the solitary bell hanging on the solitary branch that had miraculously grown away from the light to shield the pond from the sun that kept the water cool, and in turn, us, all summer long. Of the unconditional love in the eyes of that kitten you saved from hunger. Of that kitten growling at me viciously every time I touched you. I dream of beauty beyond comprehension, beyond that which is rendered by the beholder. I dream of beauty sublimated into the very essence of the air for our hungry lungs and the water for our parched throats and your kisses for my starved lips.

And in this dream, I dream of peace.
A peace so consummate that within it we find the reason for all of suffering, for all of wondering and of not knowing. Of unanswered questions and unrequited love. Of desiring without ever achieving. Of needing but not wanting, of wanting but not getting. Of getting but not having and most of all, of having but not belonging. A peace that seeps through our eyes and our ears and our nostrils and our mouths and even the pores on our skin. That seeps through and engulfs our much maligned hearts and holds them in the softest caress, like your embrace. That invokes a feeling of relief so compound that the smiles it brings on our faces alone can give birth to hope and to dreams. I dream of the peace a dove feels as it feels the wind under its wings for the first time. The one that the flowers reward by a brilliant spring when they find heat restored in the sun light. I dream of the peace that your eyes held when they found nothing but fear in mine.

And in this dream, I dream of harmony.
A harmony that belies the meaninglessness of our lives. Of the love that finds the courage to be expressed. Of hearts that beat in unison to the rhythm of the same emotion. Of a soul that finally finds it’s lost half. Of a mother’s illogical love, of a saint’s unerring devotion.. The harmony of right decisions, of good luck, of success and of rapture. Of surrender to the deserving and of fighting against all odds. I dream of the harmony of your silhouette entwined with mine. I dream of the harmony that we once knew we had.

And in this dream, I dream of purpose.
The purpose of it all. Of existing and of ceasing to exist. Of repeating our mistakes over and over. Of learning again and again. Of making the choices we believe we should and the ones that aren’t a choice at all. Of breathing, of eating, the purpose of thinking and of contemplating. The purpose of suffering when we know we don’t deserve to and of causing pain when we know we shouldn’t. Of wanting to own and wanting to belong. And of hurting equally when neither occurs. Of looking away when we should have looked on and looking on when we should have looked away. Of not being strong and of being cruel. Of loving and of hating. Of the omelet you ruined and of the tantrum I threw. Of the fear in your eyes and the fear in my heart. Of winning and of losing; and of losing all fear of either. Of ignoble desires and of unclean thoughts, of the ability to act right, despite. Of the sun rise and the sun set, and of your slightly different smile for each. I dream of the purpose of the poor and of the rich. I dream of the purpose of destiny and of fate. I dream of a purpose for existing without you and finding none, I dream instead of a purpose to wait, till I find you again.

I dream of heaven.
And of hope.
And in this dream, I dream of you.



*this is mostly fiction so please don't leave comments telling me how sad i am to be shoo in lurrve and all. This ain't for the dang EX, aight?