It Lasts Forever and Then It’s Over

by Anne de Marcken

He breathes in sobs. He gets to his feet. I close my eyes. He wavers naked and luminous in my mind. He is not Love now or Beauty or Innocence or any other idea. He is only a boy. Only a boy now. I want to kill him. I keep my eyes closed. Maybe he will smash my head in with a rock. I keep my eyes closed. Maybe he has a gun.

we are more together than we have ever been or ever will be again. This is the very best moment we will ever share. It is a better end than beginning.

Or maybe, I say to the crow or to myself, the beginning hasn’t yet begun. Maybe that is where I am running to. Maybe there is a time between end and beginning that is like the time between beginning and end.

Is hunger, is rage, the attachment to one’s own form? Is grief surrender?