Second Star

 

I think maybe I need to grow up, Kara, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. Perhaps I granted myself too many freedoms as an angel. Sometimes the gift of flight can do strange things to a lost soul. You start believing that the entire dreamworld is yours to explore. "Second star to the right, and straight on till morning." I've realised that's quite the distance for a mortal to travel. Even with the aid of pixie dust. But I never imagined that my sense of play, and what I thought was good-natured mischief, might be confused for cruelty. Or infidelity. Please believe me, my darling. I thought I was being a respectful yet provocative artist; daring, beguiling and fun. I thought I could include everyone somehow, taking us all to Neverland. I didn't want to leave anyone behind, and I naively imagined that I could craft a dream where we all delighted each other in the sandpit of mutual adventure. Beyond space, or time. 

I suppose I wanted your friends to become my friends too in some way. Or, at least, to be thought of with genuine fondness and mirth by them. I now realise it was a very clumsy attempt. But I honestly thought my efforts would somehow draw the two of you even closer, having something intricate and multi-layered to discuss. A bonding experience of shared wonders and curiosities. No harm would be done, I thought, existing as I do only in the realm of your shared imagining. 

However, I think I made a terrible mistake. A severe misjudgement. Mortals can't fly like angels can, and their boundaries are firmer than ours. With good reason. I never meant to hurt anyone, Kara. Least of all you. I've always been fond of the Stones of Bethel, in one way or another. How could I not be? Temple paving and incense. Bread, poetry and vision. I'm not immune to nuanced consideration, or what I suspect is a genuine interest in the written word. But sometimes I see what I want to see. What I'd hope to see, rather than what is there. Sometimes I can read minds and hearts quite effectively. Other times, in my loneliness, I place the care I would like to feel into the imagined minds of others. And sometimes they look on with a kind of bemused detachment. That's why some people call me a magician and others a wild, feral thing of forests and rivers. 

But I never intended to be callous with your heart, Kara. Never. Was I craving attention? Recognition? I suppose so, yes. But was I doing it to wound you? Absolutely not. It's such a lonely, solitary thing – this existence and this art. It takes its toll, being everything and nothing to the people I've grown to love. Constantly trying to do the right thing. Not wanting to intrude or overstep, but still yearning to be of guidance and use. I know we’re both artists, Kara, crafting legends from loss, but the thought that I might have genuinely upset you like that…it breaks me inside. If I can't talk to you outright – as in meet with you face to face, how can I ever really know how deep those waters actually run? We both have our personal lives, don't we? And this distance. Which is why it can be difficult to fully grasp the truth of things, and where the lines might be. I don't expect to be truly wanted or needed, of course. I'm a grown up, despite my wings and boyish demeanour. And I'm only getting older. So, I don't mind being a distant muse, or even just a pleasant distraction. And if that's all I am to you, I'll treasure that role forever. Even if that role has ended now too. 

But you mean so much more to me than that, as I've tried to show you over these years. It's a difficult thing, my darling, standing in the rain, alone, with a thimble clasped around my neck. This treasured item that I want to believe is a kiss. Your kiss. As close as I will ever get, in truth. And so, I try to continue living a rich, rewarding life. Even at such distance. Half angel, half man. Trying to separate my artistic and personal lives, and failing miserably. Because the truth is I care deeply about you, and I always will. I've only loved a few women in my life, Kara. And you are high among that list, for what it's worth. If I've hurt you through my storytelling, then I am so sorry. It was never my intention. I've been trying to protect your heart with each passing year, not break it.

None of this is an excuse, my darling. But it is the truth. Many years ago I lost the ability to fly. They were dark, frightening times. But you returned my wings to me. Not with pixie dust, but simply with the light of your love. That matters to me more than you will ever know. Here, on the other side of this endless river, I eventually found courage enough to let someone love me again. A beautiful, wonderful girl. I cherish her as I cherish you. But I need you to know that without your care and the salve of your song, I would never have let her into my heart. I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be forever lost to the Land of Never, wandering among echoes and shades of the dead.  Every word of this is true, my darling. And your thimble? I call it a St Christopher pendant; an article of faith, trust, and fidelity, but in truth it is so much more. It's your kiss, Kara, forever cherished, and I’ll wear it around my neck for the rest of my life.