Discussion » Dating & Romance » Something that i wrote for a person two years ago.

  • CareyC
    CareyC wrote:
    Please always pick up your fragment of memory, and make it an immortal painting, decorating it with the most beautiful sapphire.
    Please always pick up the pearls of memory, and make them into the most beautiful necklace. Because---you possess memory, you are the happiest person in the world.

    Spring is the memory of autumn, flowers are the memory of fruits, and the full moon is the memory of the crescent moon. But what is my memory?
    I'm a unicorn.
    God gave me life, breath, and a heartbeat. He also gave me a strong and vigorous body, but ---he never gave me a whole soul. After I was born the meaning of my life had no memory. I do not know what kind of sensation I should have when I am facing it. I do not know if tomorrow's tomorrow will be yesterday's yesterday.
    So the half-soul within my body struggles, but it can not find the exit. With my heartache how can I accept God's command? Thereupon, I began to revolt against God, and told him that I wanted my past; I wanted my memory, even if I lost my horn for it, which makes all unicorns proud. I would not even begrudge Him.
    Angels sneered at me and other unicorns looked at me with their clod eyes because of my insistence. But I continued asking God to give back my memory.
    At last, the goddess of wisdom Athena gave me a bottle that had my memory in it. I observed the bottle that I would exchange for my horn and wings with excitement in my eyes.
    It had a white body, elegant lines, and it emanated a bright light. The bottle was so adorable... so alluring. And also so difficult for me to get. I cradled it gingerly because it was my past, my whole life and my rebirth. Though my body was in pain, I was not aware of it because of my memory.
    Because no deity ever wants to ride a horse without a horn and wings, I was cast down to the humans' forest. In there I was told I would die after three days.
    In the early morning, the sunlight rushed down through the spaces between the leaves. I used my most beautiful pose to enjoy the gentle sensation of the sunlight.
    I licked the cuts on my body; hearken to the babbling of the brook. I lost all of my power. I ached from head to toe. But I was happy because I possessed my memory. I preferred to die at my happiest hour; I did not want to live in ignorance. The sunshine was the hand of conciliation. The humming of insects was the song of joviality in my body and mind.
    The gentle breeze was the chord stirring my sour. The pain of my wounds was the best proof of my continuing existence. I raised my head; God's uncovered study made a gesture to the humans from on high. That day was the last day of my life.
    I suddenly heard a different sound which made me confused.
    It was not the bird's twitter, or the bug's hum, or even the fountain's trickle.
    That was ---was she an angel? No, she was not an angel because there was no halo on her head.
    Her appearance was less sophisticated than an angel's.
    She walked toward me. Though I could not understand what she said, I could sense much pity in her eyes.
    She found some food and water for me, but I was too weak to move.
    I could not eat or drink. I looked at her kind face which was full of goodness;
    it was the first time I feared death. Finally, her face became indistinct in my blurry vision. I felt myself collapse from weakness.
    It was difficult for me to breathe.
    I had no strength to open my eyes. I could only feel her existence in my heart.
    I knew I would die.
    Two drops of hot liquid fell on my body.
    This was my first and last time to savor the sweet and eternal saline deep in my bones.
    …….She went away, though she looked back many times.
    I would never fear t
  • Petter Meisfjordskar
    You would be a good literature student in my class. I see some assonance, consonance, alteration and onomatopoeia. You have used real poetic licence. Hope you did not copy it from somewhere. I have liked it. Just hope my liking will not go beyond to the poet herself.

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