He stands tall and proud. He is beautiful, gentle and strong. Although he carries bow and arrow, he harms no one.
Eros, my love; you found yourself amidst battle. I stood there, fought by your side when your love for all - but Self - threatened to devour us, destroy you. I fought, every step, thirsted for water that was your love but you had little left to share, if any left to give.
At first, silenced by my own love, I fought without question, without waiver, without doubt. Stoically, you kept your sight ahead to some far out land I could not see. I would crank my neck, struggle to view it and fell short every time. Indeed, it must’ve been a wonderful sight for it was all your deep eyes held. How I wished with each step, your eyes held mine, held me instead.
There were plenty who fell lifeless at our side, wounded - speared in a war they knew little of. You and I, we marched forward, invincible to the waste that threatened our path. Still, I could not see the place you saw. It fed you, you continued forward with little thought to my hunger.
Each time we stopped to address our course, straighten our leather, or massage worn feet, I’d voice my thoughts, enquire of food, drink and was shrugged away for my trouble. I persisted. I’d throw myself at you, aching to absorb the nourishment which strengthened you. Cradled by the earth in separate beds, I searched the night sky for a glimpse of that mysterious place, the dwelling of your soul. Perhaps if I rested with thoughts of you Eros, I might behold what captured you. Still, my dreams were restless; images of you looking past while I struggled to be seen.
With each passing year you grew ever unhappy. What face does Love wear before it disappears? It bore your likeness. We crossed the battlefield together, a lengthy journey, bloody and bruised, yet my presence became a nuisance. I battled for you, for us, yet your bow remained in place and your arrows securely sheathed. Many phantoms found peace at my blade; they had no chance of reaching you.
Three, four years passed and I grew tired of battle. I didn’t battle you my love. I battled the unseen you withheld from me. The view you would not share. All you had you gave to some unseen, while I grew weak from your lack of touch. I stopped fighting, couldn’t carry us. All the love I had wasn’t strong enough to move your eyes my way, or bend your heart towards mine, or cause you to take up arms…for me. I strove to drink of your water, scrambled to eat of the crumbs you failed to keep in fist – all while you looked ahead. Weary, I collapsed. Emptiness fell heavy around us creating a divide as it struck the ground. I wasn’t enough to keep you happy.
What you experienced of me you were content to posses without depth; love without the desire to consume. And here, I died waiting for your golden arrow to scratch us both.
I am neither the view you’re drawn to nor the dream you’d fight for.
Be free my love of each step you’ve taken with me; of the memory of battle; of all that wasn’t enough.
Embrace your freedom to walk another path; the creation of something new; all that would strike you to Life, satiate and define the man you are.
You are the god of Love Eros, Love Thyself and begin anew.
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah
Leonard Cohen
Bittersweet in the love we shared, and by our mutual decision...
I remain,
Lesley
Hallelujah Heartist
