Alyysssa wandering the woods of her Grove.
My Flower, my Angel inspired this letter to her.
Alyysssa,
The days fall by, the leaves of a dying tree, but the memories live, and live, and live.
It is so fine to pen thy name, to see it before my by my own hand. I marvel to see it appear � I have filled a page with naught but thy name.
My love, it has been so long. I have lost track of my life in the months that have gone by, slipping by on spilled blood, ringing with the sound of steel on steel, on bone. The shouts of victory, the groans of loss and pain, and the thundering silence of death. How I have grown to hate death. I am less a man than armor and sword, and I am so tired....
How I long for the days at the Crossroads, the days and nights with you. I saw you once, not long ago. Dressed in white, you walked along a forest path, though I know not if it was life or but a dream. I was afraid to reach for you, to know the truth of my sight or mind's eye, for I could not bear the slightest caress if it were only to end in yet more separation, which the days demand of me now as they have since we met.
I am well enough, but growing so old so fast, and yearn for you to bring back my youth as the wet winds of March usher in the Spring. Ah the Spring. All is Winter now, our Summer long gone and Autumn, I fear we had no time for Autumn. Will our Spring come again? I long to know, yet fear the answer if it be no.
The cursed Prophesies are so dark! I am tired of bearing the light, so tired, but what would I be if I set it down? I do no more than so many others, but ever do I wonder if they, even the Enemy, are as weary as I.
I hope that you are well, and blessed, and I will look for you, in life and hope to find you walking the sun-dappled pathways of my dreams, looking for me. Will you run to me, smiling and laughing, when we meet again? I will imagine it is so, for my life's blood tingles within me at the thought.
I still bear thy talisman, my love, and still smell the lavender.
Farewell for now. I carry you with me, Alyysssa, where'er I go, you. You are my courage, my fortitute, my devotion. You light my way when even the light of my quest fails me.
With all my love,
Kalamar
this June 27, Year of the Unstrung Harp.
PS I saw one of my friends with his son yestereve. How grand it would be to have a son. And a daughter for that matter. I wonder if I shall leave anything beautiful behind? A Spring to be perhaps. Faintly, I smell the lavender of it....
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