Many people believe destiny is a fixed timeline of events that is inevitable and unchangeable. Try as we might, sorrow and pain is inescapable. Some have tried, only to fail. Oedipus, MacBeth, Tess… all unable to outmaneuver fate and ultimately, resigned to tragic loss.
Resignation - salty seas and distant shores far, far away from here. Black waves, like a million fingers, claw white sand and there they lie devoid of all hope, life, and meaning: stinking masses of rotting flesh. Once a king, now… nothing.
And I sit upon a broken throne and upon my brow a broken crown and in my heart so many broken vows.
"Why did the whales beach? Did they do it for your benefit? Did you call them?"
Feint echoes of you resonate through the hollow caverns of my soul. They scatter and dissipate like golden-brown leaves heralding the onset of winter. Laughter now a distant memory, a myth told around a dwindling fire that may or may not have actually happened a long, long time ago in a more innocent time.
I miss you. I need you. I am dead here without you. Like your whales, I have given up. I have resigned to my fate… every time the needle punctures a vein, I hover ever closer to those distant shores. The dying songs of my brethren, like Ulysses' sirens, fill my ears and blind my thoughts.
There is only one promise left, and I remain steadfast to my word as a mariner guided by the stars: when I die I will wait here for you alone in darkness. It is here I grieve.
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