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So much I tell and leave untold

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It lay buried here. It lay deep inside me.
It's so deep I don't think that I can speak about it.
It could take me all of my life,
But it would only take a moment to

Tell you what I'm feeling,
But I don't know if I'm ready yet.
You come walking into this room
Like you're walking into my arms.
What would I do without you?

- Kate Bush: Love and anger.

*

(Hyperion to Alabanda)

I am here, alone with Nature.

I let my eyes wander off to the sea, this sea that once took you away, and gaze onto the deep, free flowing surge of the waves. I collect sunsets and breathless longings. I am here, alone with Nature—and thus, never alone! But in my heart, I travel. In my heart, I write to you. You, who live within me!

My friend, but perhaps there is little I could write to you about. Since that moment I was parted from you, I have been a dark residence, a soul wandering through an empty, barren world. And the pain of the wound within me still echoes in the voice of the nightingale, as I cradle it close to my breast. I bear our separation only for the possibility of a return. It is but a beautiful consolation: I bear, yet I cannot bear.

No, I cannot bear—

My heart, nearly broken, has grown weary. And yet it is still restless, running like a howling north wind, and crying out. My soul, my secret longing! Where are you? Are you lost? Are you still here, in this world?

If only I knew!

Dear friend! With my eremite, pilgrim heart, I am still searching for something. There is a lost, unknown land within me, that longs to be discovered and loved, and inhabited by peace. It longs to merge with the sea, heartstrings flowing like sweet water, floating up and down stream.

Yes, I am still searching.

I am here, but in my heart, I travel to you. And I write about it. I write, these words, these conversations of the soul, so that you, wherever you are, may know all about me, and see all of my heart. Yes, so that you may know me—so that you may have me all. And so that I may not forget the days in the forest, the sweetest hours, the joy and the God between us, the streams within us finding their course—finding each other.

No, I will not forget. How could I, when I will not cease dreaming?

Yes, I throw myself into the arms of Nature, and lay my head upon the breast of the sleeping world. I feel its heartbeat, which soothes my own, and I dream. I dream of the wind in my hair, of the flowers and the sunlight, of the blue midnight sky and the warm earth. I dream of the trees and the rain and the clouds, of the grandeur of the sea, washing away my pain. I dream of a burning heart that knows no rest, that longs for breeze and lullaby and sleep. I dream I find my world in a single soul, once more.

I dream—and in my dream, it's you, always you, I've been holding, close to my breast! I kiss your hands ardently, with all the rapture of love—but I wake, and my hands are empty, and it's only my own fingers I've been holding. And the dream fades away, but still, my arms fly out towards it, my heart trembles, my soul reaches out...

And I write about this too—I dream of a happiness without sacrifices. I dream that we, who have been long separated, find ourselves together, once more. Here, where the rivers still rush into the sea, where the world finds a new, bright place for itself. Here, where I loved so, and was loved so.

My friend, my beloved! I wait, with my heart alight. And I write these letters I will never send, these words I will never let go of, and these wishes in my heart—that you dream of me, that we meet again one day, that you come back home.

*

(Hyperion to Alabanda)

Once, I tried to kill each spark of love within me. I tried to tell myself that I no longer had a heart. But I lied. I simply kept it safe and buried and locked away.

No, I do not think myself wise!

Now, at last, I have destroyed my pride and my rage. Forgive me! Perhaps you have been weary too. Perhaps you have been lonely. Perhaps you long for peace. And perhaps you long for a warmer dawn, like I do, and for those treasures, holy and true, that we once held close and dear. Perhaps, you long for me. And perhaps, if I open the windows of my heart, if I call out to yours—will you come?

My gentle friend! The beat of my heart betrays me! A burning spark leaps from within, and I cling to my hope—I cling to my dreams. I throw all the windows open! Yes, I leave my heart and all its wild vessels open, open—to ebb and flow, to bloom like a thousand flowers within, to fly to your arms on the wings of the sun, to wind around you. And the surging sea within me soars, and the smoking lamp in my breast burns, bright—and perhaps you will come to fill my heart, once more, and thread your soul with mine, to know yet another blissful hour, and yet one more. To have something I might truly call my own, and to want for nothing—to know nothing of need.

And the secret, deeper blue of the sky embraces the sea, and I believe. I believe that this world dreams, like I do, of leaves falling like poems, of birds with bells hiding inside their throats, of stars flying, kissing the sky. Yes, it does! For it ripples and blooms and bursts, like birdsong, like gentle laughter, like forbidden fruit—and I am drunk on its beauty. And then, the world grows silent, but I still hear my heart, and your own, beloved, across the sea—and I know. I am a heartland that shines, like an island of light, like a beacon, like the Dioscuri up in the sky—bright, brighter, so that you can see, so that you can find your way home.

And perhaps, I do not need to write, after all. To tell the story of this new world, I need only to look at you, like in a pure dream that brings tears to my eyes. And the longing of it, I cannot keep secret from you, dear heart—you, who rob me of my senses!

Within my heart, it grows light, and my love is deep and vast, like this hallowed sea, like this glorious world. And if I tell it to your heart somehow, will you come?

My Alabanda! We will go back to the beginning! My soul will rear up to hold you in homecoming, and we will grow ever holier and dearer to one another. Closer together, we will roam again along the glowing mountains, and we will rest, in intimate embrace—two hearts entwined, beating as one, along with the sky and the stars above. And the shadows of the trees will play among the quiet moonlight, and we will find a thousand joys in one another. We will bathe in the open sea, and the waves will become a soothing, fond caress. And my heart will cling to yours—tempered in the firelight of your tender love, it will battle and burn and search no more.

Once, long ago, I said to you that you would never surpass me in love. I did not lie, and yet—don't hold back. Don't hold back, I pray, for your kisses once pierced my soul. Come and find me! Walk into my arms, and lay your hand on my heart, and let the garden of our love grow, once more. And if you are still the parched land, then I shall come like the tempest, and soar and burst forth like the stars. I shall make you a home, a holy place within my breast, and you shall satisfy that thirst—and you shall know that peace you long for. Our kindred souls, wild and tender, embracing and embraced, will be bound together, at last. And, above us, there will be a new world, united, eternal. There will be a heart dipped in fire, with ardent love within, a home where a smoking lamp burns. There will be everything.

And everything ends in peace.

The dream and the dawn light my eyes. Caught between, I walk outside, I breathe it in. I walk into the Divine, into Nature, into this brilliant world that bears the colour of my heart—yes, I make my home here. I feel the cooling morning breeze playing about my breast, light and gentle as a feather, and I listen. In this blissful dream, my soul stirs and tests its wings, once more, and the day bursts into birdsong. Among the plants and the trees, this wonderful, endless harmony echoes the lullaby of the sea, and the sound of love that rises up from my overflowing heart, and I know that you have heard me—and I know that you are near. And I think of you, darling of my life, with the light shining bright in your face. Here and there, the colours of spring greet me, with their sacred poetry, and from your eyes, the coming world smiles out at me. And I do not need to write any more. I am a heartland now. And I can wait.