Pandora's Curse

Pandora's Curse

A hymn to the unnamed

by HW

Today I burnt the rest of the candle. Though I did not wish for it to burn again. I wished to hold memories in my hand, cupped in cold crystal. I wished to hold memories of candlelight in my hand: the memory of light, the golden glow of a waking dream. I held in my hands the memory of light that burned all night as you slept. From the meagre store of my soul, I offered to you Safety and Sanctuary and Peace. And you took from all I have, and I can only rejoice I had it to give, and that I have it now, to hold in my hands.

And now the voices begin. The petrified, calcified, stratified voices that apply another level of varnish to the cold sheen that covers the dream: "Better to have loved and lost..." The voices say. Yet again.

And again, I can see through tears that this dream has strength to lift me aloft, to toss me high yet one more time. I can believe that one day-when I alight, after the dream, after the light, after the dance, when I stand again on the ground-you will stand before me. I will look in your eyes and together we will light a match to toss into this straw: this history: this life: whose flame will consume us.

You hide in the bottom of her open box. And I seek you. I seek you with all my heart. Do not fear my love: we have nothing less to burn than the rest of our lives.


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