To my dear…

A man can often forget the wonders that he leaves behind. A devastating quality, I know. It’s not that I ever mean to forget. It’s just that a man often deals with everything else that stands before him. And sometimes a man doesn’t get the chance to look back, even if what lays behind him is worth more than he could ever count.

My apologies to such wonders. To such graceful gifts from above. To such beautiful angels.

A man can be so blind at times. A man can be so reckless. A man can also be just a man.

I am sorry, to that sweet lady. Thank the Father above that she is shining ever so brightly. Only golden blessings should befall such a delicate beacon of grace. Golden blessings? Maybe crimson? Whatever’s reagal, really. But no matter the choice, what I’ll never forget is how she and I used to dress each other in red.

By chance, we met again. She and I. I offered my honours to her house. Their young were live and well. It was a delight to see youth raised under such purity. And so of course, I offered my blessings to their mother. The darling maiden. The purest of treasures. The scarlet clad lass. Only this time she wasn’t so much of a lassie. She was now a lady.

My eyes loved to fool me, time and time again. But this time, it was my mind that was fooled. Old memories were all I had of the sweet lass. That’s all a man truly needed. A quick snapshot of her wonder. But in truth, it was her sweet and lovely soul that I would never forget. That colourful and nurturing warmth. Her soul was always a grand presence in my heart. Her soul was what was most precious. But the stranger who stood before me had caught me off guard.

The lady before me was beautiful. Gorgeous in every way, from every inch, to every curve, to even her…. Okay, my apologies, my darling. Enough of those unnecessary details.

I couldn’t recognize such a beauty at first, until I felt her expression. Divine vibrations echoed towards me. I do not know if this was how she expressed herself to the rest of the worlds. Our many dances those many centuries ago were always danced solely between us alone. But as soon as she had begun, my soul recognized it. That it was her. And my, was she graceful. She spoke an art only few would truly know. The precious song of forgotten names and raw colour.

My heart ached at when she spoke. It had been centuries long passed since the last time I had heard the flows of such song. No one had spoken to me in such parlance for far too long. That’s what was so painful. The beauty of her song was magical. I felt us both – she and I – wonder off into those forgotten skies. A realm that only we knew of, since we had both created that world for ourselves. My sweet lass. No. My sweet Lady. Had it truely been so long since the last time we spoke?

That’s why it felt so bitter yet so sweet. I had not sung in such a means for such a long time. I was much out of practice. My tongue felt that so. When was the last time I ever had to speak such poetry? When was the last time I had spoken to her? The sudden memories and struggle to sing made it all too clear. I had forgotten her. The sweet lass. Shame on me to leave her behind.

Our dance, whenever we could, was always dear and sacred. The outside worlds were never privy to our waltzing. And I’m sure we preferred it that way. She surely did. And I always gave her that respect. It gave us more to cherish each time I took her hand. It gave her the comfort she needed to be who she wished to be. With trust and a stage all to our own, we danced our grace. Colour and tones in motion. Poetry and magic in sway. Just she and I. I’m sure her heart felt safe with me. She let me hold it everytime. And yet, one day, I was nowhere to be found.

A knight was never bound to any during those times of old. He was in the service of many. But one day, a certain lovely little angel fell before him. And this angel was worth every breathe of his existence. To swear his honour, not a doubt. And yet here he wanders. Ronin. Prayers to a divine no longer in reach.

My apologies, my darling, for talking about her so dearly. And my apologies, I don’t mean to call you ‘little’. You were always just an adorable figure to the likes of myself, clad in armour and might. But I must tell you, my craft had begun long before I was graced by your blessings. There was also her. You are the reason my art is now my craft. No doubt about that. But the art did exist long before. A man is just bearing the ache of an old forgotten muse.

I must end this prayer. These thoughts no longer serve. A man cannot change his past. His present is his only gift.

Grant strength to armour me, my darling.

Jill gave me her blessings, yesterday. Of course, I still grant her my light. I hope you bless her as well. She tells me that she misses you dearly.

Love from yours truly,

-Daniel Roy