Born to Die

She stood there ‘lone; basking in the light of a million loving eyes. Eyes which were only a couple but on beholding the beauty that was she multiplied manifold. She was a spectacle — truly. One you could not bring yourself to look at with a naked eye and yet one which bedecked the same pair with a million visions when viewed. She instilled fear with every stare while inciting, in the recipient of the said stare, something far more powerful and lurid than that particular emotion. I stood afar and saw her for what I could. I looked, I longed, I loved — I lived. A life more real could not have been lived by many. Finally, the day came when her vision was not the only sensory gift I was graced with. She spoke. And how beautiful was that sound. A sound which I know but cannot speak of; a sound which changed my life in, oh, so many ways. I had heard her utter many a syllable in the past and yet had never been the target of these verbal bullets. For when she spoke, she stung. A voice so well formed with honey and venom that I was drawn to her side even while I felt myself sagging to the ground. That day she spoke and I listened — and for many a day after. Slowly, i spoke. Then, she listened. Soon, we spoke. And that was it — The end of the beginning. We had moved on now, from being to knowing. I liked that. I liked it a lot. I was sure she did, as well. I still am. But with the end of the beginning must come the beginning of the end. We grew to be friends; and then more. We connected. Yet there was a problem. While the goddess, at my bequest, spoke of life: I spoke lies. It is not that I did not want her to know the truth. I did. I even gave her a few truths and a few partial untruths. But mostly, I gave her lies; for that is all I am capable of giving. And so the bond brewed and bubbled, not strong enough to last but not weak enough to fade out. Something had to be done, I decided. In my mind I saw the positive. The beauty, the splendor, the best possible. Sadly, I’m made for seeing all of that, imitating them even, maybe, but definitely not for living them. I took a step further than she dared and I dreamed of, at the point. I took the step and I soared; high in the sky where the beach birds fly. I rose –higher and higher and higher and higher. The mere thought of my rise dying was ridiculous. I had it and I was going to have it all. I was as free as a bird, flapping my wings to rush to the land of promises, promenades and dreams. Alas, I never did pay heed to the woes of Icarus. I was stopped. By none but her, in that vicious, cold manner for which I loved her so. I was stopped to let her stay — for she could rise no further. And then i was burnt. I plummeted down at a speed capable of setting fires to the land and the seas; indiscriminately. I dropped at a velocity which surpassed that of the sun’s rays; I fell. A free fall which seemed to end in nothing but pain and woe. However, I had my trump card. My ace. My lies. I called upon those powerful cretins of my imagination and broke them apart; shredding them to bits and pieces until they ceased to exist. And when they ceased to exist — she did. She disappeared. She was lost. The one I knew and loved was gone and in her place stood a stranger whose secrets I knew but did not wish to — not at all. She was dead. Dead and gone. And then — I was born. Again.