I saw here once, I dont know where I was or whether I dreamed, but she was so familiar it was as if in life she spoke to me: You cured my life, and made me well again, but after time I knew that I must leave you, not because you lacked any success, or qualities that make a woman love a man, but because you strayed from me, because something went wrong somewhere in your heart, so when I spoke to you it was not you, but someone in a fever of distraction whose focus was entirely elsewhere, and fearing for the oncoming of age, I knew that I must act to save myself . . . It was the hardest thing I ever did to let you go, to let go my own heart, reasoning to save us both our happiness, to sacrifice--as was my character-- myself to the liberty you seemed to need . . . Then I, as tears began to swell my eyes: If I had known, if I had woken up from the great dream that crushed me in its vice, I would have poured my heart out through my eyes to ask forgiveness, and return to you . . . No matter that I did, my own heart knew all truth and beauty, all I knew of love, had emanated from the source of you, who was too lucky with his lot in life . . . When God decreed that you should be my wife I stumbled and I fell, not looking back even to notice what I myself had done, who wept more water than the seven seas when you had left me speechless and alone . . . Then it was she did a peculiar thing: she handed me a single tiny pearl, and kissing me on the forehead like a child, she spoke as if to speak for one last time: Take this, in time which you may recognize is crowded inside, like angels on a pin, with all the things we said, and all we were, so tightly bound it never can unwind . . . This relic, keep forever close to you, that nothing is undone, and what we were shall keep you whole for all eternity . . . She turned, though I expected to hear more, some sign of life that could bring back the past, and seemed entirely preoccupied with something very distant that she saw . . . Then I turned too, and clutching my small pearl, looking to see what it was she saw, but there was nothing there . . . Then she was gone . . . I turned in long strides towards oblivion . . . The night came on, and memory was extinguished . . .
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 12:01:15 +0000
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