The Departure That Never Was

Can I really leave you?—such a thought…to you it's merely overthinking; so I won't speak of it anymore; but knowing the answer to this question matters terribly to me.

I thought—surely I could do it, you're not essential to me, and I'm not the one you love either.

You know, I can't write, never wanted to master such things, it's too difficult—I'm not equal to it. But when you're very close to me…someone inside my mind hums and speaks so much that it becomes unbearable—I begin to write, only for you, thinking only of you—it feels like magic; I hate it, you know!

Most of the time, I can't bear this. I could go very far away from you—I have a habit of vanishing from people's sight; but this time it seems I'm utterly powerless!

I agreed—you should leave of your own accord this time, I can't do it; I've wanted to go away several times, even tried—but someone stops me, every time, constantly. Tell me, is that person unwell?

Do you know who I'm talking about...? You must know them; you once held me so tightly, remember? You don't; because you've held me that tightly so many times in this life—perhaps that's when you first knew them.

Have you ever seen tears in my eyes for you? No, you haven't? But I see them, every moment—I cannot silence the terrible commotion of the person within me—as if I have no say in this at all, which goes against my very nature.

Though I've accepted the physical distance from you, I cannot accept the distance of the mind. I've heard—the soul knows no distance. I don't believe in past lives, rebirth…such things; if reincarnation is false, then this will be—our last meeting.

In some other universe we must have been intimately close to each other; when you love someone too much, this is what happens! You give away everything for them, it seems…you'd say all this, wouldn't you?—truthfully, none of it is that; it's not exactly love in the romantic sense, you understand? I mean—if you begin to give someone pieces of your soul, and it's possible…you become desperate in this game of giving!

External beauty, behavior, meeting needs—none of this is related to what I'm describing—I'm speaking of those hidden dimensions that one ordinarily doesn't share with anyone—something that isn't external to you, but is you yourself. This is the most difficult reality, in my view; do you understand?

I'm gravely ill, I don't think I can recover—I've lost faith; I'm so angry with myself…I often want to strangle the person inside me to death, I scold them, yet they won't be silent; so stubborn, causing me such pain, testing my limits—how many more times must I lose before…they'll rest?

Yet, after one night of restraint…I stay awake waiting for them, and the moment I'm in the presence of that being within me, slowly I return to myself—this is how our friendship grows, as life moves near the threshold of death our gaze fixes there, at the beginning…in long sighs, a trusted companion holds me with utmost care, silently; binding my soul in peace's fragrance…tightly in their grasp—and this feeling multiplies a thousand times in your embrace.