I could have accepted spending all my time away from her missing her. At least she was only taking herself from my world. But she took the rest of the world with her. There was nothing I could enjoy, even the things I missed when I had been with her. I did not forget to be happy -- I forgot to want it.
When she had laughed, hadn't it felt the world was laughing through her? Now that she was gone, the world had lost its laugh. I came to chase empty pleasures because I was an empty pleasure. What I had been before her and what I was after her became the same thing. Before and after were the same. The little trip to Heaven in between that flowed through her laugh. She was the portal to the love within her, the love that showered the world into a drenched state of bliss. Everywhere else was meanwhile. Everyone else was waiting for a moment of her. Her love was so pure you craved for her before knowing her, even if you would never meet her, for a heart like hers could only be found in the compass of your dreams.
I was moved enough to put all my allegiance in my heart, but not myself. I still did not live in heart, and there we separated. I gave her reality, that sordid place outside the heart and the spirit we call the world. She gave me something infinitely more beautiful, more treasured, more irreplaceable: a place beyond reality. And when she left, I was cast back into the world of normalcy and efficiency and comfort. No blood vessel connected me to God. No light shone on me outside of any pain or pleasure. I had lived and loved enough to see God, see Him from a distance. This is how it is in love. This is how it is in myth. The Goddess must abandon the hero so that he may take his final steps alone. That is fine for the Goddess and God; they await the hero in Heaven. But for the hero, this is the Fall all over again. Only now, instead of being accompanied by a fellow mortal female, he is left alone by an immortal one, to fight his way out the uterine Maya, to go beyond his paltry self. His civilization fought one thousand years to bring him to this point of despair. Only now can he leap. Now he can only leap. Alone.
When she had laughed, hadn't it felt the world was laughing through her? Now that she was gone, the world had lost its laugh. I came to chase empty pleasures because I was an empty pleasure. What I had been before her and what I was after her became the same thing. Before and after were the same. The little trip to Heaven in between that flowed through her laugh. She was the portal to the love within her, the love that showered the world into a drenched state of bliss. Everywhere else was meanwhile. Everyone else was waiting for a moment of her. Her love was so pure you craved for her before knowing her, even if you would never meet her, for a heart like hers could only be found in the compass of your dreams.
I was moved enough to put all my allegiance in my heart, but not myself. I still did not live in heart, and there we separated. I gave her reality, that sordid place outside the heart and the spirit we call the world. She gave me something infinitely more beautiful, more treasured, more irreplaceable: a place beyond reality. And when she left, I was cast back into the world of normalcy and efficiency and comfort. No blood vessel connected me to God. No light shone on me outside of any pain or pleasure. I had lived and loved enough to see God, see Him from a distance. This is how it is in love. This is how it is in myth. The Goddess must abandon the hero so that he may take his final steps alone. That is fine for the Goddess and God; they await the hero in Heaven. But for the hero, this is the Fall all over again. Only now, instead of being accompanied by a fellow mortal female, he is left alone by an immortal one, to fight his way out the uterine Maya, to go beyond his paltry self. His civilization fought one thousand years to bring him to this point of despair. Only now can he leap. Now he can only leap. Alone.
