...linger..

O Fortuna

Despite being named after Il Poeta I have no great skills with the language and my attempts in writing in the stilnovismo would be clumsy and a disgrace to my namesake. While a crown of laurels may never rest upon my head, and despite my lack of skills in verse I invoke you, great one, in hopes that my description of amour courtois is met with success. Calliope’s grace alone would still leave me unable to express the elegance my heart has encountered and thus I hope, great one, that you look kindly upon my endeavor and bless me with a portion of your immeasurable skill.
Aurora would soon be shuffling off her saffron bed when I decided that I could no longer ignore my body’s great desire for slumber. Late was the hour in which I had begun the process of making my departure; still clad in the salmon coloured shirt that I had worn to work I noticed the dark ebony sky was beginning to soften into violet hues. My beloved long since changed into more comfortable attire, stood patiently next to me as I clumsily begun the process of putting on my shoes. Ours was a night of considerable mirth and my heart felt such a burden knowing that I would have to return to the gloom of my abode. How could I return to the smoke filled ruins where I laid my head when I had dared to look into the blinding light of a heaven sent creature? I looked into the vastness of her blue eyes, and I swear to you great one I was a man transformed. She was to me in that instance a delicate bloom and I was the faltering brutish hands determined to protect it from the onslaught of winter. My heart desired nothing more then her presence and it was my foolish hope that the moment would last for all of eternity. Such joy her smile brought me, O great one, that your words Ecce dues fortior me, qui veniens dominabtiur mihi never seemed more aptly used.
The purity of my devotion can not be questioned, I have ever prided myself on being a man borne of logic and yet I could do little to put out the smoldering fire that threatened to engulf my person. When the night was still in its infancy and we sat in the comfortable darkness of a theater I made every excuse to gently brush against her. She was intoxicating and I found my strength lacking; her skin was silky, cool to the touch, like a gentle spring breeze traversing through a field of lavender. How I craved her embrace, my eyes welled with tears at the thought of being allowed to cradle her delicate slender fingers in my broken hands. Believe me exalted one when I say that all my heart has ever desired from life was to be blessed by such grace, and my spirit was transfixed by the boon it had been given.
I had been a man living in perpetual darkness and this seraphic creature was the herald of the coming dawn, a light so pure and intense that she melted away the inky gloom and exposed the wonders that had laid unexamined for so long. When I arose at last from my perch on the floor I gently brushed the back of my hand against her cheek. I can assure you that heaven knows of no greater bounty but then she blessed me with a smile. There I stood with my back against her door melting blissfully into oblivion, and the lateness of the hour my exhaustion no longer mattered, I had been bewitched. Her smile I can assure you even in the darkest of hour has been engraved forever into my mind; my heart still melts at the thought of her rose coloured lips expanding into a gracious look of bemusement.
Eros your barbed arrows are truly liberating, and only the stupidity borne of a squandered youth kept me from realizing this truth sooner. Oh what folly had I brought upon myself, to live cloistered from the waves of emotions fated to crash down
upon us all, there was never any wisdom in my heart only pride and imprudence ever leading me astray from my salvation. How I longed for grace, O great one, while I staggered clumsily through the darkness, no light able to pierce the dark veil of ignorance affixed around me. Such terrifying beauty exhausts me to this day and I can only swear eternal fealty to her memory; she was the oasis to my famished blistered lips and I had great want to quench my endless thirst. I stood in the shadow of her ineffable beauty, and all I could do was tremble in fear. I felt like running and returning to the loneliness of my twisted existence, I was a beast undeserving of her virtuous presence. O Venus Genetrix, you alone know the depths of my anguish, how in the bleakest stretches of night I howled and wept bitter futile tears begging for a release from my torment; yet in that moment I felt no need to gnash my teeth in desperation as I was besieged by perfection.
She appeared almost luminescent her beauty so great that the dark itself would lament her absence; her feet barely touching the ground as she gracefully strove forward and I remained immobile as if under some sirens song. The frenzied thrashings of my heart gave way to sublime acquiescence and I no longer felt the need to fight against the deluge of passions that had been threatening to drown me. It was in that moment when I accepted how little control I have over fate that a miracle occurred, she kissed me. Believe me great one, that such an action didn’t make me think my grace to be less virtuous, but such a miracle I could scarcely believe was befalling me, could the stories read to me as a child contain some overlooked element of truth, could beauty redeem this atrophied heart I posses. I want to believe such notions to be true and not have them be borne from a place of naive optimism; I have long dreaded the thought that my faith in people is undeserved, but I knew that if I would perished on that night I would have returned to providence brimming with the knowledge that my faith had been pertinent.
Her lips tasted like the over ripened blossom of honeysuckle, no greater confection had ever graced my palette and my mind was destroyed by such jubilation she had freely given. As she stepped back I noticed a wry smile writ across her face and a knowing look telegraphed, like she alone had possession of some ancient knowledge long plaguing mankind. I felt as if I was fine marble in the hands of a master mason whose skill could be enough to shorn away the pettiness of my condition. A lesser man would have died, and I swear in the empty moments of the night I wish Charon could ferry me away from the failures that had hung around my neck like an albatross, but in the shadow of the effervescent beauty before me I was borne again. I was saved by beauty, my eyes had no want of shadows and the long dormant spark of my heart was set ablaze. My voice was cracked and fatigued when I timidly told my grace that my heart greatly desired a kiss, how I wish I could have hid from the burning intensity of her gaze, what arrogance possessed me to be so bold in the proclamation of my desires. Would she think me a knave, would my desire for a second taste of perfection exile me from this new found heaven? My body was trapped in a tempest of uncertainty, sinking under the murky waters she threw to me a life line; what tenderness I had been shown. Sensing my affliction she leaned forward, her auburn coloured hair swaying softly and planted her lips onto mine.
She was the chilled balm to my fevered pains, and I knew, as her lithe hands coiled themselves around mine, that the fears that had driven me for so long were misplaced. She asked me with a voice coated in honey if I was certain that I wanted to leave, I could only chuckle at the thought of being away from her side. With a speed that was borne of mercury I swiftly kicked my shoes and waited for her to beckon me closer. I was a raptor circling downwards from my aerie to the pray that remained blissfully unaware of my hunger below. O Great one, I paint myself as unchaste in this particular instance and it is hard to argue against that implication but my heart runs as pure as the silvery waters of the Arno. I could die, and perhaps for some the boldness of that act would affirm in their minds that I have ever been immaculate in all my dealings, but I can not tarry with the concerns of dullards; you and my beloved now the truth and that is enough.
As my bare feet touched her carpet I swear to you that I could feel the tender dampness of morning dew lap at the bottom of my heel. My eyes were closed so tight that my other sense believed that sweet smell of hibiscus and the promise of spring were written in the air. As I followed the procession of flowering lilies that bloomed at the thought of her aura stirring them I felt as if my life had been winding its strange path to this moment. I risk the abhorrent thought of being redundant, but believe when I stress that favor shown to me by those deemed most fair had become such an improbable occurrence that I feared in the pit of by being that the touch of Aphrodite would never again be bestowed. Is it surprising to you, glorious one, that I had thought myself to be less then a full person, and despite my self inflicted inhumanity I still dared to feebly hope. Ardor can be such a tragic and fragile thing, bursting into this world like a snowflake on a lazy summer afternoon; its appearance so unexpected and welcome that any man would do everything in his power to maintain its apparition perpetually. Alas, hope is not a jewel that can remain unmolested by the worries this world produces; it is fated to wither on a sun drenched vine and die, but explode again in fullness and beauty at a time of its own choosing. The word hope was almost foul and black to my tongue and unpronounceable to my heart; a black dog long since being the only companion to search me out, for so long had I accepted its miserable company that the idea of tranquility was foreign. The idea of her was like a cathedral of light in the dank gloom of night; shimmering like the morning star what hope had the shadows when witnessing her august beauty.
I felt such lightness at her touch that I was unaware when finished ascending the winding stairs that led to her bedchambers. I will not dare to besmirch her memory with any accounts of our actions that might be deemed torrid, I would sooner wish my death the dare defile her, great one; but I can say that such happiness I had found that night that I was able to trace the immortal hand of our creator. I stared into her eyes; those two perfectly shaped orbs of jade and wondered how such beauty could be born of the hand of man.
Nothing carved by mortal hands lasts forever, I know how trite and dull I must sound by expressing this tired thought exalted one, but sometimes there can be some truth still rung from the pulp of these exhausted sayings. I know of no other way to say this, so I humbly bow my head to your wisdom and hope these words are pleasing to your most impeccable ear, but I know that as horrible as it is to contemplate the thought of losing my grace that I would still endure, I would have to. I could allow my despair to perhaps overwhelm my new found sense of optimism but there is such a vastness of life and my appetite has yet to be quelled. I risk sounding greedy, and I apologize for such a grave offense, but it would be folly for me to ever say with such boldness in my proclamations that I can be satisfied. I envy children, not for the restless youth they posses, but because they see the world unmarred by the pangs of sadness and see such abundant goodness in people that it makes my heart heavy that such effortless joy is largely lacking in my character. If tomorrow comes and my grace has fluttered away I would of course be beyond disappointment, but I would know I could find it again. Love and kindness are freely given, not something that bursts into this world once never to again be seen by the eyes of man. I will be haggard, I will be ancient; but the happiness I feel will endure. Her name I fear will be lost when my teeth grow long and my skull bare, but the feint smile and holy touch she gave freely will warm me to the bone despite the infirmities age has beset upon me.
I confess great one, to not knowing what the dawn brings, but I am content with my lack of insight. Tomorrow might bring a red sky, and my ruin writ across it but there will always be a next day.