Lest We Forget Ourselves

. . .love me and let me go. . .


It wasn't as if time had pulled them apart. Neither trials nor follies had ended such a love. There was no explanation except for space. For miles and miles in-between. For mountains, valleys, rivers, and prairies wide.

It was still there, though. This love existed. It had not gone or hid or dissipated with this separation. It still lingered like the last of summer's wine. But there was still the gap that tore the lovers apart.

He had traveled to clear his mind. He had traveled to be free. Free from the shackles of vengeance but had only found sadness. Now it was this emptiness that devoured his heart, overtaking all feeling that he had felt. He had lost sight of what he really needed. He had almost forgotten was it was like to look at someone and see yourself in their eyes.

She was still in his mind, though, as his feet trudged along. She occupied his senses and changed his moods while he wandered.

She, on the other hand, had stayed put. She made no promise to bask in his unrequited love. She never spoke of what was to come next for her. He did not wonder and she did not answer.

As time passed another took interest. She did not feel for him but felt feelings from him. It made her feel wanted and cherished. It made her feel like she was with him again. He worshiped her. He caused her no pain and asked for nothing but her happiness every day. And soon it was to be.

But she did not love him. She still loved another. The other who wandered. The other who searched for her. The other who she did not know adored her.

He loved her. She loved him.

Untimely as it as, they were not to be together. Even on that spring day when he returned to her. She smiled and ran to him. She cried to him. She touched him.

And then she spoke of another. And he shattered.

They hurt each other. But it was love, through it all.

A tragedy will rule us all. A love will move us. But we will die not knowing. Lest we forget ourselves.