UP-&-DOWN

Immortal Minerva came in through the minuscule hole twisting her body a full rotation every inch of a billion miles. I helped her in that journey away from Aquila into Sextan’s arms. And now before me she seemed a bit changed, I remember reading that noses grow bulbous with the years and so indeed had hers.

Aquila was rude to her, and his rudeness had markedly been felt through all the expressions that reluctantly adorned her face, much to be made from it, her longings which were not, were ever present. She was determined to come through, she was desperate to reach Sextan’s flesh, but more from predetermined impulse than need or want. Twisting her body an inch every thousand miles, an inch every billion miles, coercing light to make an extra loop around her body so as to flash her essence, forcing light to take a little longer, pressing light to separate from its continuity of self, a single wave of ray with sudden disparate identities, her body a rising ocean with light waves of accumulating disparity crashing into her shores.

Sextan was less to her, less of what she had promised, less of what she desired, less and less of everything in a void where for emptiness everything could be more, all her directions were violated, all her susurrations stolen, all her manners revoked by dynamic inundating radiation, pulsating unwanted blood, that we are yet at another end?

“Another end?” spoke Minerva. I ignored her comment to acknowledge it would have been to condemn her to a morbid death. To ignore her comment was to reassure her of the emptiness of space, of the aimless trajectories Minerva dynamics. We wept together, I, from the resilience of her splendor, she, from the distance that having traveled for Sextan, she, had made longer and meaningless.

Aquila was at the other end patiently waiting with ring, hating Sextan’s ringing allure, deprived of Minerva, well knowing of her return, a return that would coalesce one into the other ignoring the polarity of their souls, of the vacuum heart into space. “Who will stop me?” She asked me.

I wanted to say I will, I will stop you Minerva. But I did not want to lie to her, besides she knew that I did not have it in me to bring all her tumbling energies to a halt. She knew that I could not master myself and self, that her tumbling would continue, that her passage was to return, that her emptiness was for perpetuity to be full, that the wrestles sun would crush her path, that Sextan and Aquila were the true lovers and she, a mere go between. These things are known to her and so I did not bother to respond to her question, instead I begun to sing her a song about how nothing is ever forgotten, how every memory must magnify itself with the passage of time, how memories were more real and satisfying. She responded with a song as well, about how immortals never age and time does not for them a passage make, and going here and there, to and fro, does not mark a passage more than a memory can magnify itself.

I helped her back into the minuscule hole, I kissed her emptiness, and she left her sadness with me.