Upon several requests, I finally decided to publish another one of my prose texts. My special thanks go to B. for the inspirational conversation.
Three years ago. Two years ago. A time of his life he will never get back. Maybe he would never want to have back all these years. It has changed him deeply, it has made him the man he is today. But still he feels there is something missing. Something of a crucial importance. It is not true friendship, nor is it the belief in a higher being that could be the cause for his feeling of emptiness. It might be love, but love is nothing more than neurons racing from one synapsis to the next, hormones speeding up, rushing through the whole body, resulting in what in the vernacular is known as falling in love. Yet, does he know this? Is he conscious that this feeling that seems so special is universal, experienced by everyone in the same way? Is he aware of the fact that it is only a biochemical process, necessary to ensure the survival of the human race?
Is music only a series of waves? Who would dare to say that a human form of expression old thousands of years is that banal and thus cannot be of such a great importance which it is accounted. Who would therefore dare to say the same thing about love which is given even more importance, which is being regarded as an essential part of our existence? A man who has lost everything and does know that giving love this great significance can only lead to complete desperation may dare to state this. Or a man who has thought about the utility of a feeling that is considered as being of the utmost concern in a world which is dominated by fear and hate. But shouldn’t we give love even more significance in a world that is dominated by such a grave feeling?
(Aside) Light vanishes into the shadows. Fading to darkness. It gets weaker. Slowly. Ultimately. It does not fight, yet it does not want to be extinguished. Why has it given up? Love woven into the beams that created us. It diminishes. Hope. Been here. Been gone. Come back to me. Delirium tremens. What have I done? There she walks. No! Alone. Among her ilks. They are not. They do not recognize her. They do not know God’s favourite angel steps beside them. Levitates. How could they? Why do you hold her down here? Ignorants. Forsaken ground. Finally. Everything is black. Shattered. Segments that should form a whole. Apart. A part. Splinters of glass. A window into the past. Overwhelming! The past that never was. Hollow. A mirror that shows a person who never existed. Could I have foreseen? At the bottom. Smashed to the ground. Desperation. In a delirium, she, too. Sentences. Break down. Staccato. Why these thoughts? Meaningless words. Stop. Where is the meaning? Rebell! Go. Been here. Been gone. In actions. Where’s the escape? She walks past me, the world turns in slow motion while she slowly raises her head, looks at me and smiles. Never has the world been so ethereal. Isn’t that? How did she get here? I don’t know. But I did. Labyrinth. The only thing I could say. Is there a truth that could calm me? I’m not trying to find the exit. Am I? A maze of narrow alleys. Foreign city. Alluring. I am not welcome. Welcome stranger. City of darkness. Buried deep down here. How to run into a higher sphere? Been here. Been gone. Does it matter in the end? Won’t return. Enter into this room. Fall my angel. I cannot rise. Angel! Come down to me. Hello. You’ll have to learn these chapters. I’m calling on you. Let the fire finish my work. Fall. Anything? Will I catch you? Hit the ground so heavy. Red tears. No. Something does. What? Fall. Tell me. Teach me. What a mandatory requirement. Don’t say I’m too demanding. Help. Fall. Finally. I embrace you death. Kill the guilt. I will never know. Been here. Been gone. Have I?
No, we should not.