A positive parallel to Eliot's Prufrock |
Let us go, love, you and I, when daylight sleeps beneath the darkened sky dead like cadavers awaiting trenchers spades; let us travel those long untrodden paths where fearless dare we go where fouler winds still blow the stench of death and carrion, the lifeless corpses of all gone before, these treacherous trails to nowhere known. Nor shall we ask, "What lies ahead?" Let us just go in peace instead as foggy mists dance on our sleeves, as gentle zephyrs toss dead leaves across our path as flower children do and prancing shadows follow, too mimicking our plodded course to nowhere that we know for sure what lies beyond our farthest reach, what dangers lurk what mysteries smirk at both our ignorance and bliss. There comes a time, there will be time for us to wield the weaponry combating dragons fierce, to prick the bubbles, pierce the gossamer webs we cannot see that tie us up both you and me upon this path to our eternity a time for you and time for me to see ourselves for what we want to be. There will be time to cautiously decide how to respond to what we want to know about each one, the faces that we meet, and how they look at us with words replete: "How odd they seem, those two who walk as one," and do I dare presume that they are right, those blind that see less than those see without their sight? And are they finished when it seems they're done commiserating with their own diminished kind with nothing worth the telling in their mind? For I have seen them all and know them well, and you know, too; you say, "Do tell." I have spent my life with them through dell and vale, though mountains high and by the shore, their voices screeching epitaphs that trail away in echoes that are heard no more. So now shall I pretend? Shall I contend that they have worth when I have seen so long they see not me nor see the you I do, my partner by my side? Shall I now deign decide to let them pass unrecognized, or bid them fair adieu for they do not exist in just this world of me and you? I have seen you by the light of day and know (you never had to say) how soft your arms, how light your hair, how strong your fingers grip my hand in yours, your curling lips placed moistly where I dare not say somewhere below my aching hips that yearn for your volcanic flair. So now shall I dare suck your breath, absorb the radiance from every pore, our intermingled sweat, dried up in death, but living now and evermore while we as one embark on this dark night, tomorrow's day, until eternal light? And shall I lie with you in still repose unhindered by the aches and pains I feel in creaking joints and weakened bones and still acknowledge you, my rose, your thorns still pricking what remains of my once sturdy self ? (We hear the groans of anguish emanating from my limbs apart though loving still with all my pounding heart.) I am no treasure more than what I am no greater nor no less than what you see and lived a life the fullest that I could and often saw Fate's fingers beckon me and indeed I feared as e'en I know you would had you that light I saw burned through the night. Therefore, dear love, I hold you, aged, tight to my own ancient body, near, and treasure you, my darling, dear, my love, my troth, my life's delight. And if at my life's end I dare to say, "I have not lived -- not lived at all," could you say, "Yes, my dear," and lay your hand on mine, and wrap a shawl around us both in quiet, peaceful sleep, and whisper prayers my soul shall keep its love for you intact? Can you in truth react to my demise and comfort me with love still deep? Will you assure that's not at all what words I meant as you recall? Will you in our rheumatic state still call me Prince, or King, some kind of royalty though we both know that I am none but just a pawn whose heart you've won? My hair is thin, teeth sparse, and wrinkled skin hangs loosely from once sturdy bone; yet you still shine as bright, your glow within still radiant, as light from stars or sun alone. We both have trod this path to doom yet lived to love each one along the way watching sunsets, dawns, and nights between with me your king and you my queen and none to predispose to pave our way or give us shelter in an empty room. Then at the end by life's abiding shore, we see the worth and wrath of God about and smile at the birds and trees, the ceaseless waves of endless seas, and Siren=s songs and eagles' screams and waken from eruptive dreams and turn in peaceful death to live this life no more. |