From
whence the dark did come.......a stranger,
atop a steed, dark as night. The clap of hooves,
as though thunder from far
away, came piercing thru the dense morning swirl. The
morning, still dark as
the night before, shadowed the man in a cloak
of misty fog. A haze only
seen in the dreamscape, in the other time.
Thru the fog, he did ride fast and
swift as the dark that comes with night. He came
quickly to the place she
sat and stopped. Saying nothing he comes down
to where
she
sits, takes her hand, and cups it as gently
as a child
holds a butterfly. His hands and body, rough and
scarred, like his heart,
telling the tales of many battles won and lost, battles
of the heart and soul..
Hardened, and steeled. Hands made for fighting
and crushing, yet ever so
gentle did he hold her hand, like steel beams,
wrapped in cotton. For a
moment, he remembers. He remembers when his heart
was not so hard, when
life was a happier time. For a brief second, he
let his heart bound with joy
and happiness. Let his defense lax, enjoying the moment
of feelings
felt. Happiness in his heart, can melt even the
coldest of winters, but alas,
only for a moment, does this feeling seem to be
an eternity. He knows it can
not be. His heart is torn once again from the
reaches of lifes most
sacred and sought after feelings.
He knows he cannot stay and must move on, lest
he fight another battle doomed to be lost. Knowing
all to well, the
consequences, he places her hand back to her knee, as
she reaches for him, not
to go, he knows he must leave. saying nothing
and hardening his heart once
again, he mounts his steed, and turns to ride
away. On last time does he turn
and look, straight into her eyes. Feeling his
throat tighten around his
heart, the ache deep inside says its time to go.
Suppressing wiht all his
strength the tears that well up from deep inside,
he must leave now. A slight
raise of his hand, to motion goodbye, the feeling
of his heart being torn
again from deep inside, the angst of love lost, or of
love know and lost
once again, yet in a moments grasp away, he must leave.
He has to fight once
again the feeling of lovelorn sorrow. Without
hesitation he turns
his mount to the dark from whence he came, a sharp jab
to the ribs and he
is gone...she hears the sound of fading thunder
as he rides swiftly to his
ever most constant battle of the heart. The battle of
lovelorn sorrow.
Darkman, 2:28 am.