Lyri - light
He says... I am your reader and you are my listener. I am a wanderer and I can not tell you where I have come from because you could not believe it nor accept it. Shall I sing? Listen to a song you have never heard before and yet, it seems familiar, distant, a memory. From where you are sitting, look beyond me and around me. You see deep blue falling on the walls and shadows of lighter blue drifting in through the windows. You hear water, windblown water falling outside the walls, a constant sound of the sea breathing into the land.
Along the land, the coastal land, as the summer ends, a new summer begins. The nights are colder, the sun is weaker, but the sea is still warm. In the warmth of the afternoon, I walk along the grass-to-sand edge of the house, circling it, painting a fence around it with my body, protecting it. She is asleep inside, I am awake.
For ten years we were lovers... an affair of the heart, I called it. But you are a thief of hearts, she would say. And what are you, I would say, my victim? No, she would whisper, your loot.
For ten years we touched each other's skin, we slept together and bathed together. We stared into each other's eyes until our eyes went dark. We whispered our names in a thousand different phrases, in a hundred gestures, in silences that flooded the memory with music. We went to places, walked along streets, lonely together because we couldn't share with other people. Afraid to share, afraid to lose a moment, because above all, our passion for each other glowed... green like sea fire, glimmering like a delicate, thin glass, floating on our fingertips, buoyant from our breath, waiting to shatter if either of us so much as blinked. We believed, I believed, that one day we would fall asleep together and never wake up. We would cross from white to black... no shades or colors in between... the most dangerous expense of life.
Then it came. Now she is asleep, falling asleep... and I am awake.
You walk into a darkened room and sit with other people. There are no other sounds but you and the other people. After a time, the room darkens further, and She appears, standing in front of you, her back to you.
She says... I am your reader and you are my listener. I am a wanderer and I can not tell you where I have come from because you could not believe it nor accept it. Shall I sing? Listen to a song you have never heard before and yet, it seems familiar, distant, a memory. From where you are sitting, look beyond me and around me. You see deep blue falling on the walls and shadows of lighter blue drifting in through the windows. You hear water, windblown water falling outside the walls, a constant sound of the sea breathing into the land.
She steps into the blue-shadowed area. It is thick with heat and wet. She is hot and wet. She lights a small yellow lamp and takes a cloth to wipe her neck and arms.
She says... You would not stay here long, too hot, too much rain. I came to this place to help them, the people who lived here. To help myself by helping them. I couldn't do it and now they're gone. They left, one and two together. They left, mostly they disappeared into the jungle, not the sea, the jungle. They disappeared and died in the jungle. They died as he played The Bolero Négro.
As your eyes follow her you become aware of an Old Woman sitting in the corner of the blue-shadowed area. Old and quiet. You begin to sense the heat, the thick air, the wet.
The Old Woman says... Why did you come back?
She says... Why did you stay?
The Old Woman says... To wait for you, to wait for you never to come back.
I realize--a word for awake, for aware, for astonishment, word for agony--
realize, just the two of us, we could have made it
realize that you could have made it
and I could have made it with you
realize that I let your tears flow through you until they washed you away
washed me away in you
I hear--a word for listen, for remember, for dreaming--
hear, you call, you whisper, you cry, your voice is my silence
my silence is breathless, silver on silver, glass on glass
I see--a word for feel, for pain, for remorse--
see, the skin, the eyes, the touch--
Why?--a word for love, for longing, for loss--
why, you said it would be in your heart forever
why did you let me throw your heart into the sea?
"You lose them! That's what happens in death. All that love, all that happiness--you lose it.
There are two forms of death--the causal and the inevitable. To protect against the causal would require a sheath, a capsule, an absolute 360° impenetrable cocoon. Where is that armor? Better to focus on the clone of the brain and its perpetual update. Death from physical cause is preventable--but excruciatingly difficult. It is a race against time, where time is the emergence of the clone. Believe that the race will be won, that discovery will create your immortal mind. If you cannot believe, if this hope is dope, a monkey on your back, then consider this:
The purpose of life is not to die. The way not to die, and be reborn again as the Buddhists believe, is to achieve enlightenment. The way to achieve enlightenment is to to travel the middle way between the extremes of indulgence and denial--to always move forward in the present, always selecting in favor of--never rejecting. If the journey can survive, if the traveler can survive, then enlightenment, immortality will come when the mind is no longer dependent on the shell that contains it. But beware, again, of the monkey."
This was the voice she heard when everyone had vanished, when Lyri was alone and no longer chained to herself. Not asleep, awake and unafraid.