S. I walk these dusty streets and keep wondering to myself , "what am I doing here, at this hour, so distant from everything else in my life that I've come to know and love?" The tears flow incessantly, like the morning fog that greets my face with its unhappy hello. My head seems clear enough to discern what is happening. Yet the passion to seek for a reason to live is too powerful to overcome. I find myself staring at my reflection in the puddles, wondering what caused this to go on for so long. As unpredictable as gusts of wind are in a quick rise to temper. Words fail me. The complexity of the situation baffles me. It is as puzzling as sleeping through several days and waking up to the darkness, not knowing whether the dark can be alluded to late evening or early morn. Speak to me. Surely you are of a more sound mind than I am at this very moment.
C. I have been your companion for the longest time. Your need to escape gave birth to my coming to being. You know we are not welcome. Or we are but it is at home. Is the evening so seductive you choose to dance under the moonlight in waves of grief and sorrow? Under the witnessing stars you skewer your heart with a world you have created, ghastly and unfathomable? I fear for you, dearest. When you plunge into your silence, even I cannot read your thoughts, cannot predict what will happen next. Love is essential for both of us to continue, and do you not find it where your heart is? For people say, home is where the heart is. Therefore, trek on your way home. Find love, and find peace.
S. Complete unrest. Surely there must be something more than what I have been labeled to do? Don't you think there is something more for you, too? And what of these brutal acts in the name of love?
C. What is love? Do you know that love does not always come with pain? Love can be a refreshing fount from God's own heart.
S. I have been here too long to know their partnership cannot be corroded with hope for good things to come. The two are inseparable.
C. I can stand here or lie down, choose which you prefer, and argue with you on these terms only you know you can win yourself. I look at you and you seem like an angel, fallen from the Heavens above. You still have your wings, and can fly, then why choose to roam the earth with truths that hurt?
S. Isn't there also grace in truth?
C. There is. What is your truth? Tell me. Is it your journey south and north, searching for something you have had all along? Is it facing east to the sun expecting its good and reliable appearance, or west where it's sure to bid its farewell? Does it complete you to sleep, wake and eat alone? Is it the steady beating of a slumbering heart parallel to your own? Is it the rain that the soft ground worships or the smiles of the sun to the moon? What is your truth? Does despair come hand in hand with happiness? Do you love to hope or hope to love in the ajax of these circumstances? Tell me.
S. The truth is you will not save me with your arguments. My loneliness is as good as yours. What I do is for you, too. I cannot recreate love without your consent.
C. The love you recreate is a farce.
S. Say what you want.
C. Tell me the truth.
S. You are not my savior.
C. And why is that?
S. Because you and I...we are one.
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