At this point, I only hope he can rest peacefully And that a part of him has been reincarnated into an unassuming cherub. At this point, I just hope that one day when I’m old and grey-headed In Soho or Orlando or in Florence... I’ll come across a young man laughing. A young man who resembles him: his unique look, the distinctive voice, distinct laugh... I won’t know it and neither will he. But perhaps we’ll meet again for a split second In another time, another place, another life...
"Over there Witness all the rooms you rent, Moments, Memories, all the pieces of heart gifted by lovers or strangers" said The Cherub. "My arrows choose which you will cherrish."
"While we lay entangled here, Having consumed one another. Do you wonder if we will cherrish this?" said The Archer.
"Would you like to come even closer And discover the answer? " replied The Cherub.
"Every memory I've choosen to cherrish, Has Shattered" says The Archer.
"Well of course it did, You tried to choose. We cannot choose which memories we will cherrish. We may only pull faith From quiver. Give in to potential without intention. Close your eyes. Empty all your senses Until the only sense you have is Trust I'll fill those empty spaces, can you feel me?"
"Yes, you are close."
"You have my quiver now. We still have no control over whether We will cherrish this moment. Put your faith in this bow. Draw back our arrow Trust it's natural path. Close our eyes. Forget this room. Volley the whole tower"
Originally Written as The Title/Description of My Paper sculpture of the same name: You can VIEW THAT PAPER SCULPTURE HERE: https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ8_LYYF-3H/