I know you are there. Perhaps it is a footprint you leave, an invisible path for me to follow. All it takes is a miniscule trace and I see it. Keep it secret from the world if you must, but I know that you search for me.
Have you found me, do you suppose? My mysteries, my riddles, you think you have mastered them? There are no certainties and I know that you have a need for answers. You will readily supply them yourself since I can offer none. Your questions float to me on the wind and I have no choice but to wave them away. I can not let you hear my voice.
You do not understand my invisible barriers and I am heartbroken that this must be so. Long ago I created an island. I built it piece by piece before I understood its permanence. And now the island keeps me in a beautiful, crystalline world forbidden to you.
Should we indulge the sorrow? Feed the longing?
My eyes are closed. I know you are there. I see evidence that you do not think I see. I see movement, activity on strange maps, journeys you think I do not know.
I feel you. I have not forgotten.
These words will travel your way. I think you will feel peace, a sense of love. It is well meant. Look for the moon and make a wish.
I will hear it.
This post features Lachrymae by Frederic, Lord Leighton
