They told me to let them go.
not distinctly, not looking at me, without their hands on my skin, without their lips touching mine.
but i was walking through wet new york night shadows from my college to home (the way i did before, the way i did when I had something to talk to them about and hey, the talk is easier when walking)- because they told me what happened afterwards, they told me and I tried to delve and tried to see the tragedies and deaths and burned cities and they froze me on a bench for half an hour and calmly led me through images and stories and told me "you cannot change anything, you taught us, we learned, we are free now, are you happy for us?"
her name is Ri, she doesn't need anybody and anything, she wanders through the world and marvels at the way it's made, she screams and cries from empathy but rarely feels anything herself, except for the endless desire to be alone in her ecstasy, in her awareness, and yet the desire to touch, feel, smell people. She is free and doesn't know that chains exist, she was the soul of the world and her heart is spiked to a stone slab in Mitegel, and she is free. She is part him part herself, she feels no guilt at being only herself and nothing else. she grows old slowly, but grows old because anything static is ridiculous to her, and she lives by the sea in her old age because all stories come from the sea and she is infatuated with stories.
his name is Yon and he remembers everything and writes books and walks between lines and shadows. he recognizes some of them on the subway, but never meets their eye. He is the mind of the world and he moves through all the small places where most people don't pause. His pain is in his hands and in his heart and in everything he does, he converses freely with fate and he makes stories happen in this newfound world. He collects wooden toys and has two children and every evening marvels at how different and wonderfu l and theirown they are. He doesn't know what will happen to him, but he doesn't mind.
his name is Lake and he will be angsty and teenagy and fall with a bad crowd and even meet Ri at some unfateful occasion, he will be fifteen, she will be twentyfive, he will fall in love with her and seek to tell her something, seek to understand, she will save him because she will not yield, and so he will not remember. He will meet a girl, coppergold curls and a quiet smile, and they will run through sunspots. He will have a human life and grow old and have a son who will love him. He is the heart of the world (as insane as that sounds), and he will not be scarred. He would have freed Ri from her incessant dream of leaves during their brief affair and will dream of Mitegel himself, every night, and sometimes he will wake up screaming, thinking he is somebody else. He will walk into the still water of a cold lake and not emerge at the age of seventy four.
Of course, nothing is this simple. Of course, these are not happy endings and they are not endings at all. But we were told to let them go, and this is what I intend to do, even though it will hurt, like losing a friend.
But I suppose it is time for all of us to be born anew, new friends, new characters, new fates.