paeōnia

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝗹𝘂𝘅 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗼 𝗲𝘀𝘁 | 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢 𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢 ₊˚✩

[peonies-and-yellows]

For the final act of my love

I chose to live—not for myself, but for those I hold dear. Existing has been no gentle voyage; it has been a tempest, a weary pilgrimage across jagged terrain. My soul, once a dreamer, adored life with garlands of romance, whispering that perhaps it might soften, perhaps it might gleam. Yet the universe is merciless. Life is no meadow of blossoms, no radiant constellation, no gilded mirage. It is shadow, it is silence, it is the cavern where light is just a rumor.

Some wanderers stumble upon that light early, others much later—but I have strayed too far from its path. I ceased my pursuit when the light itself recoiled from me, as though saying that it was never mine to claim. I concluded that it is better to remain still than to wander endlessly with hollow hope. In stillness, I do not dread, I do not weep, I do not beg for brightness.

Yet for love—for the pure devotion I bear—I will endure the night. I will walk through its labyrinth, clothed in its chill, and I will not falter so long as the road leads me to my beloved. Let the darkness gnaw at me, let it test the fragile seams of my sanity; I will bear it gladly. For their joy is the lantern I cannot hold but can protect, even if it costs me the very marrow of my being.

Thus, I live. Not as one who seeks light for themself, but as one who becomes a vessel of endurance, carrying love through the abyss until it finds its dawn.

[peonies-and-yellows]

             to live is futile;

to die is to forget futility. the weight where meaning frays and slips, where nothing claims me and i claim nothing.

i mourn a ghost i cannot name, a grief for a life i have never lived. as my throat tightens, the air goes thinner. and a soundless cry will be left.

if such silence is the ending, then let it be kinder than this ache. let nothing be gentler for a grieving soul, mourning for nothing and for everything.