I didn't intend to travel to the edge of the world. Call it a sacrifice on the altar of love. Or call it temporary insanity. They are not mutually exclusive. They may be one and the same.
She said to me, "The man I love must be willing to travel to the ends of the earth."
And I, thoughtless, young, said, "This I am willing."
Then she said, "The man I love must be strong enough to return from the ends of the earth."
My blood ran red and hot, my arms ached to hold her, and my vocation pressed me on into the pirogue. It was a trinket she desired, a curio from the east, a meaningless nothing, and it became my all-consuming desire. I saw what no man had seen before, and fought battles with men, monsters, and myself. I proved my own strength and devotion. I satisfied my own quest. I became worthy of her.
And now, at the end of the world, I wonder, should I return? Should I deliver her heart's desire? Is she, finally, worthy of me?
Friday, September 28, 2007
~Pirogue by Dragon~
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4 comments:
The sky has joined with the water. The waves touch the clouds, and I am there.
I don't know if I'm at the top of the world or at the bottom. I do know I'm skimming along, and I'm happy.
I know I'm free and I will keep going.
Raj has ideas like others have heartbeats, each one racing and raving in his subconcious like a loon.
Not that the observer can notice, but Raj is on fire. Each silent moment intensifies the forging heat where he focuses his attention.
When he jokingly kissed your hand in Organic Chemistry, why did you flinch away from his sandalwood skin? For in this one moment all of his ideas and passions were distilled into one simple devotional act towards you. You could have become a patroness to his peculiar genius, were you not blinded by the faint scent of curry, the cheap shoes.
I didn't intend to travel to the edge of the world. Call it a sacrifice on the altar of love. Or call it temporary insanity. They are not mutually exclusive. They may be one and the same.
She said to me, "The man I love must be willing to travel to the ends of the earth."
And I, thoughtless, young, said, "This I am willing."
Then she said, "The man I love must be strong enough to return from the ends of the earth."
My blood ran red and hot, my arms ached to hold her, and my vocation pressed me on into the pirogue. It was a trinket she desired, a curio from the east, a meaningless nothing, and it became my all-consuming desire. I saw what no man had seen before, and fought battles with men, monsters, and myself. I proved my own strength and devotion. I satisfied my own quest. I became worthy of her.
And now, at the end of the world, I wonder, should I return? Should I deliver her heart's desire? Is she, finally, worthy of me?
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