I met her in 2005 in the summer, or perhaps before that. Maybe it was in 1940 before the war, or 1870 in the annexed black hills of South Dakota. Maybe she's always been there. Within my grasp. Maybe our paths have crossed many times before unable to communicate fully the tangible from the archaic. Till at last our touch was made permanent within a diner on center street.
I Loved her.
With all that could ever be summoned by one man alone. She lies dormant in my very movement, haunting, leaving me breathless, projecting pejorate in my every limb. Lingering long and leaving only through synthetic substance. Yet she is the very mucilage that keeps me whole. And our union was such that my heart was hers and hers mine, singular. If only for a moment, never to be fragmented. A perfect fusion of genetic flawlessness as to make even the paramount of gods weep. To feel her touch was to be born again. To live, truly live in constant uninhibited repose with the one you love is unimaginable to the human mind unless experienced. It can not be preached to the decorous. It is not a faint and fleeting passing of the senses. It is the Sidpa bardo. The pinnacle of mans primary existence in this world. To find the equal to his heart. But now all is gone, taken, removed is this one brief moment spent in the infinite of time. Am I supposed to be grateful? Honored such an alms was given to me? To us? Gods be damned, summon the arch angels and burn my name in memory. For i will not forgive this. I will not bend to some effigy risen from the ash of memory, passed on through the finest of raconteurs.
Myth,
Mystery,
Bullshit..
-D Raven
