The writings of Sunny Caane (7)
My dear, I must write this farewell letter to you, because for a while, you have been the sky of my soul. I have long held you in high esteem, dreaming of the coming day when we shall be, but it is clear like the rain falls on a stormy day that my paradise with you, exists not on this earth but in another place. The more I stare into the darkness of the earth, I long more to visit it, to set my camp in its abode and have my soul nourish upon its meaninglessness. I have often wondered about my passion for you, why it arises, why it existed in the first place, knowing that it will never fulfil its end. I have often wondered about it and I wanted it gone. In all honesty I didn't really know if I could live a life with you. But now, your arrows have pieced my heart, left dying from knowledge of you, my eyes have also gone blind for it was only for your sake did I value my sight. I must go and bid you farewell, for friendship is maintained by regular visits and to a greater degree when there is an expectation of Joy and business to be done. With you, I have no more business for I fear or rather I know that our meetings would only be filled with sorrow, a silent sorrow, even though you still devour the calms of my thoughts. Among the female kind, you are still the object of my meditations. You arise spontaneously when I so desire for you to be vague. This love which I have for you, consider it none of your fault. Have no guilt about my voyage into the stormy unsteady war. It is my resolution to fight with a dull sword. I am not a man to kill but to be killed, murdered by an unknown mortal rather than to be killed slowly by a once cherished treasured. It is not you my sweet who killed me but my own desires and selfish love. In life there is a dance that I no longer dance, but in death there is a stillness that I must live.
Farewell my Friend