There was a time, my love, long ago, when I promised you the world. The ocean, the sky, all the music and dancing your heart could hope for. I tried with every fibre of my being to eventually make good on that promise. And I finally have, I think, at least in part. I can never fully explain it to you. Not in this mortal life. But I feel like you already know. Perhaps some things can remain unspoken. Maybe we don't need words for everything. Centuries, my sweet one. Years and days and hours, and suddenly here we are again. Together. In this beautiful, terrifying place. You really are nothing less than a miracle to me. My brave girl. Alive, playful, creative – armed with new opportunities to help those who need it most. You are surrounded by wonderful people. People you dearly love. And it makes this angel at your shoulder truly happy.
My warrior, in this mortal life I've come to understand the myriad within you a little better. Your layers and complexity. But I love not knowing everything.
It means our souls have depth again.
I suppose it's enough to know we bested them. In the end the promise of love became everything we secretly hoped it could be. That's why I call you a miracle. That's why this distance feels so sacred. Of course, I do check in on you from time to time. Quiet, unobtrusive. Just for my own peace of mind. But I leave you with your secrets and hidden places undisturbed. Any true guardian would do the same. You check in on me too, you know, and it makes me smile. Sometimes I wonder if you almost recall those moments in vague dreams or flights of fancy. I want to thank you for taking care of our friends, and our family. Thank you for keeping them close in all the ways I can’t. Tell them I miss them. All of them. They don't remember Kasi. Nobody really does, but that's ok. Tell them I love them with all my heart.
The moment I started writing these words it began to rain. Isn't that strange? This rare phenomenon of heavy rain falling through direct sunlight – it’s quite beautiful. The contrast moves me as I watch and listen. The timing and elegance of these moments still impresses me, even after a thousand years. So I sit here, writing, knowing that night is only a temporary veil of dawn. The living resurrection of light. The way she blushes her tomb every single morning, fighting her way out. Dissolving darkness as her radiant glow climbs the sky once more. Renaissance, truly. Such a thing is worth a father's endless struggles, or the struggles of a distant guardian, isn’t it? No tomb can keep you, my love, no matter how hateful. I promise you that. Of flesh, the spirit, and the world.The Dark Matter from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.
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