My Life Has Been A Mansion
I sensed he was in a pensive, almost melancholic mood, so I sat by him as he stared out at the setting sun, waiting for him to speak.
“My life has been a mansion - no, more like a seedy, musty council flat. Decrepit and somewhat tatty, but that is not what has mattered.” He pulled away, slightly, as if sensing I was about to take his hand and refusing himself the right to touch me. “The rooms of my flat are all gloomy, the windows and doors boarded by fears and petty thoughts; gray cobweb-partitioned rooms of sadness; sadness for what has not been and for what should have. Now comes the time of fear, for I can hear you outside, tearing at the boards, trying to let the sunshine in.” He stared at the horizon, avoiding my eyes as he added, “I am too old for me to learn about life and joy; constant introspection, sadness and gloom have made me too fragile, the energy of your light will shatter me.”
I kept my eyes fixed on him, knowing that even if he would not meet them, he would feel them. I felt how deep was the sadness in him and I wondered at the life of some mortals; at the way they lose pieces of their inner being, until they are worn down to shadows of themselves so that they slip away without leaving anything for their souls to grieve over in memory of the life that was.
An excerpt from Little Cherine, Book 12
Αλέξανδρος Ζήνον Ευσταθίου
(Alexander Zenon Eustace)Written: April, 2009
- posted on Steemit 3rd August, 2018