We are told, that marriage is a sacred promise to place our hands into the hands of the one we love. At a mere eighteen, another fourteen years apart, we listened, but heard not. We believed we understood, and that one day, we too, would have that blessing as we sat in the aisle applauding the groom and the bride. We imagined our own ghostly future walking down that path, hand-in-hand with the one that we loved.
I can’t remember a day where we were more wrong. All the little facts pointed at each which way, and here we are, standing, in the middle of a crossroad, neither of us letting go. This is where we part, where our lives take their turn. This is the pivotal peak, the axis to our fall, and we know we can’t let go. Love has us clinging onto each other’s misery.
We both knew that someday, even if not as it is right now, we were meant to meet and part. If we had never met before, we would be fated to meet again. Odds are, no matter how we were not to meet, we would still meet till we shall part, as if the stars are forever to be crossed.
Yet here we are, with all odds against us. Laws having wronged us, expectations tying us down, and responsibility holding us back. What do we have left? Nothing. . . to be honest, we never had anything at all. Do we even have a will? I dare to say not.
We both know, no matter where we go, or how far we run, or how hard we try to forget, we cannot part. Sounds familiar, yes? We take a step forward, then a few more steps back, and if we are to keep going forward, we will only find ourselves cycling back. Even at the opposite ends of the universe, we cannot part. Why? Because fate has us tied together in a faithful, yet forbidden dance of heart. This never ending waltz, could it actually last through the night of the century?
Ironic that no matter how transparent our desires are, as humans, everyone chooses not to see. We hear the melodies play, and even the church bell ring.
However, though the bells, a sign of joy and union to another’s fate, is the seal to our curse. Funny, how it makes a mockery of us. We love, but we cannot love. We love not who we have to, and promise too as well.
As years pass by and our children grow, and my husband dies and his wife shall go, still, we cannot part. Because deep in our hearts, we will always know. Every moment of our lives we will hear about each other from someone too close, and we will both die a little inside when we hear about the others’ “happy” news. First, “I got a lover,” then, “he got one too,” second, “he does not love her,” and, “I am lost as well,” third, “He’s getting married,” and, “I won’t be alone,” and finally, “I’ve got a family,” and, “his, they’ve all grown old,” but the secret is still untold.
Like the metal of the bars to the forced closed cage, our hands are bound by these cuffs. Even if the opposition is bond to the proposition, we would be at a stand still. Tied, not by choice, but situation.
Each moment of history, lived together but not together at all. Because no matter how much we want it, or how hard we seek it out, we cannot exchange vows. We cannot promise each other we’ll be there for eternity and we cannot promise to protect one-another. And in the end, because we want to, but can’t, we end up hurting one another, as we ask the other to bear witness to our vows, when he promises to love her “in sickness and in health,” and I promise to love him, “until death do us part,” we will force our hands as the wedding ringers, despite the death of the days to come. And as he takes my heart in his hand, and his in mine, it will crush us to see them protected by a cruel fate that’s still to unfold. Because that’s what it means for us, “to be true in. . . good times and in bad.” These vows, we will never, even when said, be exchanged, for it can’t be heard, and shouldn’t be said.
Yet all this, is only caused by the silly social rules that society has placed as norms of the human nature. But is it not also within norms that we break every rule we ever made to make something worthwhile, and fill it with meaning? Some argue that rules are made to be broken, and others just agree that rules are only what man has prescribed to a concept long overlooked.
So now I ask, if I am, “starcrossed,” and he a, “lover,” can we not also be forgotten in the night, lost in the dark, and rebirthed by the ever glowing star?
Too, can our hearts not also touch the ever distant lucifer, not the devil, but the star?
I am afraid, the answer is long overdue. For, our souls have already been spread too thin amongst the cosmos in the sky. My heart, his wife. His heart, my husband. Bands to exchange, promises to make, vows to protect, and results yet to reap. . . by all that is to sow.
So let me ask again, because when I am a mere eighteen, and another fourteen years apart, can I not love his wife, and he be wedded to my husband before the end of, “death do us part.”? 599Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8K7CkgKajP
