I will carry you to the shoulder of the mountain, and then can go no further. I can go no
further, but you will go on without me.
How could I say I loved you, if I never let you see the sea?
What height you might achieve; leave me now, and tarry no more.
The wing you made from the maple leaf and summer wax, are yours.
Do not bother to come find me should you ache for return, I will be gone.
Things split and part. That is the way of it. Coalescence is the start, but you and I shall
end on different shores.
Do you love the sea? I met her when I was young. I carved my name into her sandy
breast. She kissed it, and out it went like a light.
I had never seen death before until that wave. Understand, that all this will change. But
know, that I love you, ad infinitum.
Go now. You are upon the shoulder. You have said all with your eyes, I have said mine.
Go now. While you still have the grace of the wind.
Go now. You can not wait. Worry not how I descend the mountain. I have descended
before. Go now.
Tis your time to burn and die in the sun.
If it be too painful, look to the right. There will be my breast bone.
May it comfort you through your devouring and reemergence through the dark.
A. Marie Kaluza blogs at The Larkspur Horne