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To Whom Intended,

Beloved and Bereaved

By Algernon LockePublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 2 min read
(Spirit at Sunrise)

To Whom Intended,

Do not dwell on me.

You will only waste your strength.

For I have evolved to a state that cannot be contained.

I am the wind that combs its inconspicuous fingers through your hair and plants chilly kisses on your cheek.

I am the sun that encompasses you in a warm embrace and the moon that oversees your safety as you dream.

Do not cry for me.

Send me on my way with a smile.

For this goodbye is only a preamble for a new encounter; a new greeting even more blessed than the first.

I know that time will drag her feet, as she often does, and it may be a while till then.

But is it not the wait that makes the wine sweet, and that much more cherished?

You look so lost, so angry,

Trying to read between the final lines of our story; cursing whatever monster has stolen me.

If I knew my memory would hurt you so, I would've taken it with me to spare you the pain.

Can you feel me?

You must, as you glance unbeknownst to where I stand.

What a look of agony that blights your gentle features as you hear my voice.

I know you long to be where I am.

Darling, do not rush to come find me.

Come at your leisure.

Live as vivaciously as when I was there in stride.

Taste all the flavors that excite the palate;

Hear the sweet, silver sounds the earth plays for you;

See all the glorious sights that paint this existence;

From a gilded sunrise at the highest summit, to the bioluminescent creatures and their deep-ocean rituals.

And then... when destiny has finally called you home, and grants you that entry key,

Swing open my door with a supernal flourish that comes with a life that was lived; a soul left full of wisdom enough to burst at the seams.

I await that moment, when I see you nimbused in smiling celestial light.

I know I will lose myself, as I have missed you just as achingly.

I will hold you close and unleash a foray of kisses upon your lips and eyelids, until your star-dust skin is inflamed from the heat of my ardent welcome.

And once our new hellos have aired on our breath, you can relay all you have seen; all you have experienced...

And all that reminded you of me.

Devoutly waiting,

~ Yours eternally.

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About the Creator

Algernon Locke

Amateur writer powered by cheese and unholy spite. I like writing fiction. What kinds? All kinds! Poetry, stories, songs. I'm still finding my place in the literary world. With reader critiques and feedback, I hope to learn and grow.

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    Algernon LockeWritten by Algernon Locke

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