Letters to Sybil (2)

My darling Sybil, the rain poured much this morning almost drowning the tent in which we lay. Cold are the nights and leaden in the sunlight hours. Even when the sun does pay us a smile without you near it is all a glare. If a bullet or the thrusting of an enemies knife kills me not then the distance that partitions us will eventually murder me. I am not alone in this feeling, for I have made an agreeable comrade. His name is Aemon and long we converse into the late midnight hours talking about many an imperative subject, discoursing about the distressing nature of politics and useless ends of philosophy. We disagree on many themes but both like twin brothers agree on this topic of love where many of our comrades comprehend as a feminine affair. They are beast thrown into a paradise who regards it just like the wild from which they were taken - we are no less men for speaking of such a tranquil weighty subject for we take our course from Him who created it all.


When I speak of it I talk much of you and of Him who gave his life for humanity. It is this activeness of it which has amputated me from your velvety embracing arms. I long to be held by them again and this such longing may yet keep me alive. The first of June will soon draw nigh when your beloved will take up arms against the foe whom so far has no genial spirit or warmth but malicious and malevolent to mother and child. Much would I have preferred the way of peace but these barbarians comprehend or appreciate nothing of her so in conflict we must endeavour and hope without doubt, understanding the fate of our civilization rest in our victory.   


My Dear, sleep I pray in the night and be at watch in the day that perhaps the hands of providence will favour my end; so as to be, you and I will meet and embrace and marry till death steals our love in our old becoming age.


With all the Love and more that a good man can give
Sebastian