The Lament

It seems to me that it is my destiny in life to either abandon the ones I love or be abandoned by the same.

Is there even such a thing as love? My heart tells me no.

Lust? Yes.

Desire? Yes.

Sacrificial love? Yes.

But true, unconditional, no-strings-attached LOVE?

No.

The earth remains silent as I call out to Love. I shout for her from the tops of the highest mountains. I search for her in the deepest seas. I scour the land, razing it from top to bottom, and I see nothing, I hear nothing.

I feel nothing.

No longer is there a burning in my chest; a torch that my heart carried through the lonely nights of endless darkness. I beat my breast, hoping for the fire to rekindle.

But nothing stirs.

My heart, which once coursed through with heat and warmth like the belly of a dragon, is now as cold as  the gray stone of the tomb.

My heart is dead.

Who is there? Is there such a one in the earth who can remake the fire? One who can billow the long dead coals, coaxing them back to life?
I know not.

For when I believe that I have found the one who carries with her the spark, I am dismally mistaken. The only things that these heartless women hold are water and death.

Death to my eternal fire.

So I grieve for you, Love, wherever you may be. I mourn for you and pray--though what I pray to, I am unsure--I pray that I may find you again someday.