He’s Gone, But Her Heart Still Sways To The Rhythm Of This Song.
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“The answer is dreams.
Dreaming on and on.
Entering the world of dreams and never coming out.
Living in dreams for the rest of time.” ~ Haruki Murakami
She was but a little girl. Untouched, overflowing and birthed into life with emotive words. He was but a wandering wondering lost soul, living in music, in the silence between the notes. They met in a time in space where old souls roam. A place where kindred spirits are free to dance as children once more.
Theirs was a story to be told, an experience to be felt. A story of true love and true bewilderment and as often is with great stories and great loves, a story of sorrow. Their tragedy and their love are now but echoes from the past, but the flame of their beautiful dark story is still burning to be shared…
She remembers the evening at the darkest stage of twilight, dusk. She was awakened by the music flowing from his soul. He led her out of her lotus flower onto the lonely floating leaves of a magical pond. They glided over the water under the crescent moon’s light and it made her smile with all her heart.
Entranced by the symphony of his sorrowful songs, they found each other and lost themselves in a bittersweet orchestra of love.
Dreamy, alive inside each other in their secret wild playground. She was enthralled, curious. His spirit kept circling around her like a ghost twirling in her shadow, as they made snow angels in the grass under la belle étoile (the stars). She gazed at the sapphire blue moon. Blue, the color of a dying moon. The stars aligned and two polarities collided.
His black heart and her white. Together the epitome of mystery, misery and bliss.
She would touch his face with sparkles of beauty and colors would stream from his tender lips.
She would offer him pearls of rain, from places in her where there was no rain. They dreamed up a world where love was king, love was law and she his queen.
Every day he would sing how beautiful she was and her eyes would spray glitter for days to come. He brought her gifts sewed together with love-kissed words and fed her with songs that moved his heart. Gently, he guided her into his sanctum of shadowiness and opened her eyes to its beauty.
Time and time again, she drank from his juices and flew fast, furious and passionately into his dark night of the soul, and he met her there where the sun shone bright and its fire beamed on their faces.
Love…
Love became her and then love betrayed her, just after darkness fell one night. The softness of the wind carried whispers of fading lovers’ songs under the withering blue moon.
“I was just a child but you seemed like so much more
I’ll forever love you, even if you’re doomed
We’ll always be together ’cause we’re both under the moon
I know that you are out there, somewhere underneath the moon.” ~ Insane Clown Posse
The little girl crawled back into of her lotus flower and cocooned herself in lullabies of the fragrant words that once sensually kissed every hungry part of her.
She cries Hello abyss, my second shadow. The unsettling blue funk, like the devil with his sheep’s eyes, like the smoke of Camel cigarettes and the unforgettable smell of its ash, like nostalgic acid rain. Her heart is stained with the ink from his soul, racing with poetic melodies of pain.
The beauty that had once besotted her world, her fairytale ending with rainbows and unicorns and blooming lotus flowers and shimmering ponds and starry nights and moonshine kisses and perfumed winds, the playful imaginations of her soul, had now turned a dreaded grey.
Her lonely boy flew too close to the moon and now he is gone, but she will always remember his face. She will always have their sparkling memories and she will always have their melancholy melodies and she will always have this poignant parting song…
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He is gone, but her heart will not stop swaying to the rhythm of this song, to the branding of these words on her sensitive soul. She has grown and she has been broken into the knowing of that which forever remains: that love cannot play without pain.
*****
Marulé MacKay is a moon baby who is in love with beauty. Everywhere. In music, lyrics, art. All around. She has a poignant romance with words and uses these as the bricks and mortar of her dream world. She loves creamy-dreamy chocolate, the smell of pine trees, leaves rustling in the wind and playing in the waves of the ocean. She thinks she may perhaps be a mermaid. She is also a traveler, explorer, foodie and sensualist by heart, and a friend of unicorns and rainbows. Make beauty, don’t fight. You can reach her by email or on Facebook.
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