I was happy on my island
surrounded by beauty my sky was cloudless my sea untroubled my sands soft and white. Perfect trees danced in the warm breeze. Flawless flowers filled the air with exotic fragrance. Then you came, washed upon the shore like an offering from the sea. The pleasures of my island have faded, my only pleasure is in you. My every step is taken towards you, why are you walking away? I long to see warmth in those eyes which contain only misery, but even my beauty cannot bring them light even a goddess cannot command love. The ground was soft and damp.
It yielded under my feet as I drifted aimlessly from stone to stone. The sun glowed hot and bright, dancing on the monuments scattered around me. A redbud tree had christened the ground with pink petals. Violets hid shyly among the grasses that needed mowing, while dandelions loudly proclaimed their presence. In spite of the brilliance of the day there was a chill in the air unaccounted for by the weather. Cold, lifeless markers mocked me, with their ornate carvings and sentimental epitaphs: Mellie Cravens, "Beloved Mother," were your children the only thing in life that mattered? Did you get absolute pleasure from watching them grow? Was your life fulfilled by their success? Or did you dream other dreams as well? Len M. Hanna, "Resting," Was your life so complete that you needed this sleep? Were you quite ready to lay down and rest? Were you so satiated with living that there was nothing left to do? Elias Barr, "Beyond the Sunset," How were things before the day ended? Did the twilight come unexpectedly and too soon? What is this darkness, this ghostly gloom, one always finds in graveyards? What is this substance that dampens the air as effectively as a rain storm? It is not that this place marks the end, but that this place marks the end of so little. |