My Weakness22:00 Dec 07 2006
Times Read: 868
My Weakness - Moby
Is there any greater pain than death?
Watching as loved ones disappear from your life completely having only faded memories and crumpled old photographs.
Dusty clothes that only hold the faintest scent of them.
Tiny hand prints on the window the tricycle out in the garden.
The nightgown hanging in the closet and the perfume on the nightstand.
The tattered and old chair with the grooves and bumps created by a body that will no longer grace its seat.
Does time heal all wounds? Or does absence make the heart grow fonder?
Will the memories fade into nothingness will the smell of their hair and the sound of their voice become a painful mystery, like trying to grasp at shadows in the dark?
Is there any greater pain than death?
Than the loss of a loved one of a presence that filled your life, that when they left took with it a piece of yourself?
Will i ever see you again? Will i feel your arms hugging me tight, see you smile? Be with you on some lazy afternoon with the September sun falling casting its dying colours all over the landscape filling up the sky with a promise of tomorrow.
I want to believe that you are safe somewhere, smiling and dancing, with no worries or broken dreams. I want to believe in a life beyond our own, where in the memories and the dreams you lay waiting ready to quell the pain in my heart, to bring me home and remain forever by your side.
There is no greater pain than death, than loss, than losing a part of yourself. But even though you're long gone, and the memories begin to fade and lose detail, even though i can no longer remember how you smelt or the sound of your laughter. I promise.
I will never forget.
I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
-Emily Dickinson
I wait in this place where the sun never shines,
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
Music by Moby.
Faded memories by me.
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