Nine Hundred Lives of Love

    I took back the goblet, soiled and stained, last symbol of the love we shared. Its brassy exterior bore the rainbow shaded fingerprints we left upon it the one time it was used; inside lay the stains of pomegranate and three small seeds. Eight months was all it took to destroy nine hundred lifetimes of love.
    Once we stood beneath the stars, siamese twins at the back, gazing upward at the heavens, wishing to see each other's faces. Brother and sister then, as now, our love no less strong for it. Then as now, we had to be apart to be together. I held tight to the pomegranate tree as you walked away, our flesh stretching, bones twisting in ways no mortal man has endured since; your pulling gave us wings...
    Again when we were young, in the deserts of Judea, you gave away your best friend, my love!, for thirty silver coins. You always were a mercenary. I went away with you, Brother; one act to show me it was you...
    In Spain you sought me out again, I, an old noble's daughter; you, the rough hewn Basque. Life was never simple then, but it was joyous and full of life. We showed the world the magic love could make, and they taught us that fire could destroy it. We lost our daughter then, and the sun rose late that morning...
    For five hundred years, you forgot me...I saw you flutter by in France, a thieving birdlike boy in blue. Was it your eye that I caught in the Arabian dust?
    Then I found you again in dreams; for eleven years you were at my side, my constant and bawdy companion. I loved to wander alone with you, neither of us speaking. We just stared into the eye of the world.
    I saw you fleshed, then, in a coffeeshop, but we were still young. You begged food from me in Denny's, but I barely saw your face. I heard legends of your exploits in every corner of the city, and you I know, heard the worst of me.
    At last I found you, pouring my drink in a transient corner of coffee hell, and my heart sunk like a stone, because I thought you, in your eternal infamy, would turn me away. I had never been so wrong. We shared six months of bliss and rememberance, and then we forgot again. I realise that I was wrong to forget, but you keep drifting away...
    Will I find you again, half a millenium hence, to share a brief taste of the world's beginning, and then to drift away? Or is this the end, the bitter end, of nine hundred lives of love?
 

Street Exit
 

VonGraeding '99