The Wind is Full of a Thousand Voices

And he has asked me time after time why the words coming out of my mouth are never honest enough, and he has asked me time after time why they don't seem real, why it looks like I'm constantly lying. And I don't know how to answer, I don't know what to tell him because maybe, all that's left for me to do is to actually feel what I'm saying.

And the nights pass and time goes on its merry way and the words coming out of my mouth are just what they were before, and I'm still the shell of a forgotten memory. 

And he asks me if I can feel or if the person laying next to him is just made of stone, if he has the power of Medusa on me. And I can see the joke but, underneath, underneath I can see the pain. He's hurting and I'm the knife that's being stabbed through his heart, like an eternity in the gaze of the sun.

He's dying out, and taking me with him, but how can I say he's the one killing me when I'm the water to his fire. How can I say he brings me pain when the pain I give him is the torment and torture of his existence. Until the very moment he tells me I'm dead. The very moment my shell has finally come to its end, and with me dying, he is slowly fading away, being me the the light to his shadow. 

But I can only hope to turn around what he says, and I can only hope that I am in time to make him live. So the last time he tells me I'm empty, I show him my computer, for I have managed to convince my decaying brain to function, and test the limits of my heart. For what he sees is my soul;

My heart can only respond to my brain, yet my brain can only respond to my heart. How is it that when I look at you I'm paralyzed, how is it that when you're the one feeling down, I can only feel the endless needles in your heart.

What you once told me has never been closer to the truth, for I can only write what I feel. And how can I even imagine to share my love when I have never been in love, and how can I carry the torch of hope when I barely even carry my own weight. How can I express the bare sentiments of love when love has never captured me.

But time is different, and thing change, and now my heart desires to let go and tell you my love. For the Medusa effect is long gone, and stone can be broken to reveal the true depth of a work of art. And even then, stone can be forged, stone can be ticked away and made into something never seen before. And to me, oh darling of mine, it is inclined to be the latter. Your love has chiseled me to become the very statue of David, it has made me what you so anxiously yearned for, and what my heart of marble has finally decided to say. 

For a statue to become waves riding smoothly through the ocean, for a mass of rock to become eagles soaring the sky, one can only begin to imagine the transformation. But such transformation requires great sacrifice and great energy, and the only energy ever enough to make it happen is the energy of love. Oh sweet desire of mine, now I can only begin to tell you what love is, now is the moment when someone as uncertain of love as me, is seeing what others say is the light at the end of the tunnel. But you must understand. Love for me wasn't simply something that didn't appeal to me, it wasn't something missing in my life. Love was, to me, nonexistent. And you must understand that the words flowing through my fingers are but fragments of what gift I now possess. For what other thing could love be but imagination filled with desire, what other thing can it be but the fragments of what one believes to me. Is it still not clear? Has my damaged heart not even begun to comprehend love? Alas, it is all that.

So shall I return to my nullified existence, where only the wind shall disturb my innermost thought, or should I put up a brave front and realize what never will be again. And after many sleepless nights, my darling moon, should I tell you that my running thoughts have only begun to venture into the deep abyss of love? Because you must know, of course, that we cannot be defined, and you must know, of course, that if love has ever been defined, thousands of hundreds of speeches, and poems, and songs and movies and books, hundreds of thousands of thoughts about love would have been a waste of time. So you can only pray, my sweet, that this slab of clay can manage to bring out what a never-ending list of talents has managed to borderline. Seeing all of this, you must understand, of course, the uneasy feeling in my chest for I shall never be good enough to express these emotions to you. 

But the emotions are running through my veins and I can't help but try to write them down. It is an overpowering illusion, a sentiment of freedom. And honesty. Honesty like you've never seen it before, that is what love is. Its the raw sensation of being naked to yourself, its a finally untapped bottle, laid after years and years on the most homely table to exist. 

Love is the power that is driving me to write this and love is the very reason we live. Yes, we might survive on our daily life. But think to yourself, are you really living? Are you being propelled forward by a force so powerful it has moved even the strongest of men? Why even the fiercest have waved the white flag to be free of this feeling of power? And I shan't go further, for only a firm disbeliever of love can tell you that love exists. Only someone who has argued hundreds of times of the creation of love, someone so convinced love could never exist and has been made for the most simple men. Only someone as myself.

So the stone perhaps is not stone, but a material who is guarded against the existence of something so fragile as love. As delicate as a new, blooming bud, love can move the wind. A feeling, a creation of thoughts, can change a person so. Anything like love can turn a person upside down, for let me tell you the example of myself. Let me tell you of a girl willing to do anything to object to love, who is now at the feet of her darling man. 

I have now flown to the sun, with no thought other than the one of a fierce determination that the sun cannot and will not burn me. I can pass through the sun because I am guided, not by a known god, but by my passion for love. I can swim to the deepest section of the ocean and never shall I be without oxygen. Because the only memory I desperately need is the very image of yourself.

So perhaps consider yourself to be the strongest magnet on Earth and I, the weakest metal, for your force of attraction pulls me towards you, and I can't pull away. I only want to keep close to you, even just talking would simply suffice. But when I'm with you, I can't help but hover around you, like bees flying above nectar, your presence only is enough to satisfy what I crave and just being in the same room my heart swells. I do not even need to touch you, just filling my eyes with the sight of you is enough, just being near is all I need.

And when you take me by the hand, I cant even imagine a better place for it to be. The way our hands fit together, like pieces if a jigsaw puzzle, that is love. And the way the palm of your hand rubs against my own, the way your fingers hug mine, the way it fits together, like they are never meant to be apart, that is also love. Perfect molds. But not only is it love, but it is our love, the most powerful of them all, the one that brings what should be together and glues the pieces of the puzzle. And while I am your glue, please don't  forget that the only glue that has ever held me together is you. Trust me on this, for a few glues have been by my side, but only you are the one capable of making me right.

And in this I say that I am something on my own but everything with you. I am a simple but unique girl on my own, yet with you I am the universe. And it is all I ever wished for, it is all I ever dreamed of, even when I did not know I was wishing for it, even when I did not know such a dream existed. It is you being in my every thought, every unconscious thought, every conscious thought. It is an everlasting sequel of the beautiful story of us, with scenes of the sensation that overpowers our every move.

It's like when we broke up and all I could do was think of you, like a zombie I went around, with constant thoughts of us. It's when we got back together and the world was suddenly turning the way it's supposed to, because some people are just meant to be together. It's the feeling of being lost without you, roaming a desert with no end, parched lips and dehydration looming, and finding an oasis, filling your stomach with water after days of desperation. It's going home to where you belong. It's going back to you.

So perhaps I have not explained myself very well. Maybe I have not transmitted to you what my heart desires. But I pray you can see that my heart, soul, mind and body are entirely yours, even if I have only managed to portray a tenth of what I feel. But that is enough for me now, because I will never be the same again. I have been hit on the head a thousand times with no result but my head is not as hard as it looks and I have been damaged forever. And it may be that damaged is not the word but what else can I say when you have destroyed me, burnt me and made me rise like the bird of fire. I have been damaged for life but I would never want any other ending for me. I cannot imagine myself being as I am without being damaged, because I cannot imagine myself as I am without you.

But maybe some things are just meant to be, and maybe I should admit that having you beside me is the way it should be, the way it was to be since the very beginning of our existence, since the first time we laid eyes on one another, since the first time our shoulders brushed against each other, since the first time our lips joined as one.  

And you have asked me time after time why the words coming out of my mouth are never honest enough, and you have asked me time after time why they don't seem real, why it looks like I'm constantly lying. And I didn't know how to answer, I didn't know what to tell you because maybe, all that was left for me to do was to feel what now flows out of my body with every movement. All I had left to do was love you.

And love you I shall, until the end of our time. Because you are my love.

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  Esther Alós © All rights reserved