Final Masquerade

A new beginning is impossible; it always was. There is no such thing as a new beginning; once started, we are only ever able to move forward. Forward, but without a destination, or, perhaps more accurately, forward to our inevitable destination, but with an unknown route to that final demise. You tore me apart with the words you wouldn’t say. Your silence was a powerful tool, a mountain across my path; a fortress for you. Then, facing this obvious truth, I suddenly saw tomorrow, as the future, washed away. Why? Because I have no reason to rewrite this act, and you will never spare the time. You and I forever trod this level path, waiting to reach a crest, but that was something we would never find without choosing the steep and stony trail.

In those last moments together yesterday, when the light on the horizon was brighter and the shadows still stretched away from us, we could each see the surface scars of our fights beginning to heal and fade. Yet even when our eyes couldn’t see them any more, in our minds their gouged memories were still held as if on a film running in slow motion – the image taking so long to disappear.

We had never said it was forever, we were always conscious that this scene would be played out and slip away, and here we are, in our insanity, standing at the end of the final masquerade.

I begged you, then, for what I needed, for the secrets that you kept, and though I was aware of all you ever wanted, the truth I couldn’t speak. I can see no forgiveness ever surfacing between you and me, and you will never see the crime you committed. Here we are, both still waiting for what we left behind.

We sought the light of a magnificent hope…but the truth was an insignificant flicker. Perhaps the issue was our role reversal: you the gentle but inconsequential breeze, while I was the whipped-up storm. Can you still see that horizon? Has it left you to move through our city as a complete being, or are you a mere shadow in the moonlight, fading fast like me? I’ll never know; I can’t. It’s not my right, neither my desire. It was only ever a play, a masquerade, where now, your mask is down, while mine is all that remains of me, now my icy blast has blown itself away.

Tagged with: