“COME live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks 5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.”
The Passionate Shepherd To His Love- Christopher Marlowe
He remembered days long gone when such a request didn’t feel so damn empty, alone and one sided.
Days when he wasn’t left wondering how he ended up alone, empty and angry…again.
Days when he didn’t ask himself how many times he would have his heart ripped out or question his own sanity.
Days when he didn’t rage against his inability to stay angry with her and scream with frustration because he felt like everything was heading down the perfect path to get where they needed to go.
Moments intermixed with minutes and magic mingled with the mundane made it the most aggravating and sensible thing he had ever experienced.
He would see it through, follow it to the end so that he had the resolution he desired and once he knew where it led, well he would make whatever choice he had to make then.
But for now he accepted that heart aren’t made out of the same fabric as brains.