"That's what they mean by the love that passeth understanding: that pride, that furious desire to hide that abject nakedness which we bring here with us, . . . carry stubbornly and furiously with us to the earth again."
-As I Lay Dying William Faulkner
I'm haunted
By the hallways in this tiny room
The echoes there of me and you
The voices that are carrying this tune
-Haunted Poe
***
If a lifetime were to pass, would I remember you? Would you remember me? What if it were many lifetimes; thousands of years from the last time I said goodbye to you. Do you suppose we would still know each other's faces? I've often wondered what it would be like; me and you meeting each other down the road. Would our conversation be casual? Or would we dredge old, painful memories? I hate those. I don't like to see you cry. It burns my throat. I suppose our clothes would be completely different. Will you still wear your hair the same way? It's so messy, I can't see how you would change it. Unless, of course, you weren't born with your hair. But then you wouldn't you so we wouldn't be meeting at all, unless we were. I wonder if the sight of you after so long would drive me mad. So, would I remember you? I like to think I would. You've got nice eyes. They give you away in a crowd. You wouldn't be able to fool, if you were to try and hide away. I'd know you by your eyes. Of course that leaves the question to be, would you remember me? And, well, we both know the answer to that. If I know you, then you know me. We always seem to be drawn to each other, anyway. I'll find you without even realizing it. And then you'll find me. And we'll find each other.