[an omen of a better age]
to wish a good morn' to the sun, to the sea, to the birds with songs that greet the residents each day set out yonder for each dwindling lifeline. ancient stone sculptures slowly cracking beneath golden light, woven basket filled to the brim with fresh bread loaves as she meanders through the streets-a walk she seems doomed to repeat for the rest of her lonely days. but as the sea waves crash against the rocky shores, salt suctioning against barnacles, she sees him. standing upon a balcony, paintbrush balanced perfectly between finger and knuckle, dark hair and light eyes just as gray as the sea. her red dress sways enticingly in the wind, as if to say yes, yes, go. walk to him. for he is the sea to your sky. meant to become one in the very end. but she does not summon enough courage within her beating heart to make the steps over the mossy stone tiles, and she continues on her way. it takes her one year. one year of looks, of smiles, of fantasy and reality for them to mutter any words out between lips to one another. but after the first are spoken, they begin to seek each other out as often as can be made possible. even with the hardships to endure, the money to be scrambled for, the work to be done, they fall for one another. madly, deeply, forever in love. he paints her during their days of freedom, oil paint stretching over a once blank canvas-dark hair, eyes, and bright cloth. sometimes, she wears nothing but the hair spattered over her skin like thunderclouds. she becomes his beloved muse, the only work of art he shall ever focus his undivided attention on for the rest of his short life. when the sun falls behind the sea and the moon reflects her silver glow upon the surface of the earth, this is when the couple makes love. feverish, heated, sweat glistening on foreheads as their bodies mesh together as one, all sound, moans of pleasure, splitting into the silence of the night. but these moments between the lovers do not-will not-last forever. alas, a death beyond what anyone could have perceived as possible befalls them, a shipwreck near the port of their very destination. drowning together, hand in hand, murdered by the sea that they had once looked upon with such adoration. but even in death, their love remains unparalleled to any other of its kind. a romance so intricate and timeless, deemed by the gods to remain in the paintings hung upon walls as history embarks undisturbed journey. this romanticism pertaining to art and blossoms, lovers meeting in a bed of roses / nectar / lust / freedom, praying for endearment and immortality. until the very last breath escapes these lips of passion, and the souls residing within the fragile beings slip in between the veil, fading into the dark at last. bones resting in peace beneath the glassy surface of the ocean as the spirits rejoice in the arms of angels. auspicium melioris aevi.
a love letter to passion & fate
