Narcissus

 

John William Waterhouse - Echo and Narcissus - Google Art Project.jpg

Deriding and displaying her love with the herd-keeper, I saw the moon jeering at my obligations-the mockery of satisfied and the mockery of ones who can pursue, clings and disgusts as they disgust my being. I shall have driven across every rugged mountain ridges if memories from within I  could efface and shattered hope I didn't have to recollect and break again. If there were a way to hold my dear, dear to me and share our heartbeats, I would have done all that's to be done, again, and again, and again. I can't, and there is no path ahead that's gnawed, or I can gnaw. All I can do is smear my existence, transfigure my presence, and mourn indefinitely, for the one I love doesn't exist, but my love does, my love does.