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“Who are you?” the King asked suspiciously.
“Who am I?” the stranger that lay before him replied.
“Can you not seem me, when you look into my eyes?”
The dialogue between them became deathly still, as if in the moment, of realization - one’s own impending doom.
The face that lay before him now, was odd and peculiar. It was surely known by he that, the seductress came with a price. Beyond that of the monetary compensation, the visual perceptions of what was real are so easily challenged by what lay before him now. After all Madam Butterfly, as she was called, was reputable for surely all that was promised and more.
Her skin, molded with time, changing like the seasons. Only at the quickest of paces, like ever revolving circulation of planets or the inevitable push and pull of gravity. The eye only half visible, her long thin hair draped, delicately across the other. Whilst the mask that cover the left side seemed as if, made from human flesh.
The question that is presented here however is understood by only you – alone.
How her magic fooled the eye into thinking, seeing what isn’t real. Reflections of memories materialized upon the human form. The heart beating slowly, redness illuminating through the torso, an incarnadine flicker upon each fingertip. The bones shaking, violently, the room had begun to tremble as if Heaven and Earth had collided upon impact and; yet what was assumed by you? Nothing more than what we think was supposed to be?
Is it wrong to demand connection, to yearn, to desire, for the company of the other? Is it truly sinister to want what we cannot seem to find? Love, if it is called by a name other than what we know, compromise and countered movements blocked by each other’s inaction. Life it seems, always ever but only a question, forever lost in indecision to move - to simply move - at all. One step in either direction: forward, transgress to the sidelines, slither upon angles, or retreat all together.
The desire it seems nothing but thought and the feel of dreams, a wish, a hope for a way other than what we know. To choose wisely, to have chosen poorly, and to fear the effects of our initial cause, all this merely a demonstration of worth; to ourselves and each other. Perhaps all that ever was and, all that ever is, nothing but a moment elapsed into what seems as if an eternity.
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