Desiderium
Desiderium. He was gone. He would never come back. "Thank you..." his last, faint, whispery words; still hanging in the quiet, misty air he once drew breath from. A fog was rolling in, over his body, across his eyes, as if embracing him into his sleep, and dragging him down in to whatever awaited in the afterlife. Desiderium. I couldn't cry. I was breathing, and he wasn't. I looked down at him with longing, alone in the quiet under the canopy of stars, leaves brushing against my arms and legs. I wasn't alone several minutes ago; he was with me, he was here. Now he wasn't, now I was alone. Desiderium. I sank to the ground, my fingers digging into the dirt, my mouth opening, my breath coming faster. I was looking at him, at his perfect face, and then I wasn't, tears blurring my vision. I reached out to touch him, I had to. I couldn't do it, I couldn't bring myself to feel him; to feel him gone. My hand dropped to the ground, and I choked on a sob, the entirety of my inner being pushing itself into that first expression of desiderium. The tears came faster. I struggled to breathe. I let it come; let it wash over me. My cry went up into the night, tortured agony pushing itself out through my lungs, my hands balled into fists as I pushed myself up. Then I was standing. Standing. My face toward the darkening sky, kissed by the light of the stars. The cry receded into the gloom, as the breath within me died slowly out, replaced with deep lungfuls of the air he would never again breathe. Tears running down my face. I tried to yell again, but nothing came out; I had no energy with which to vocalize my distress. I breathed out. My hands, on a tree; my eyes, cast toward the sky; my breath, mingling with the coolth of the fall air; my fingertips, running down the tree trunk; my knees, in the dirt, my body to follow. Desiderium. It hurt within me, to be separated so. Life and death the only two dimensions which mankind has known. Would he never break the silence again? He would never, never break the silence again; but that moment, that thought my soul could not bear to entertain. Oh, to feel his breath upon me, his breath, to hear the sound of his voice, to see the way he walks, just once more. Better yet, forevermore; I would die with him now if I knew I would see him there. Desiderium. This world could kill itself for all I cared, compared to the grief the loss of my friend brought down upon me. His eyes I would never cease to see in my mind. I would stare into the them and hear his voice, in my ears, in my head. I would never tire of his image plaguing my dreams. Yet I was still in this world, and I would keep him alive in memory. Within me would I carry him always. His tale would be mine to tell, and tell it I would; but naught could be done at such a time as this, there were things to do. I couldn't leave him here. My time here must soon be over, grief to be held off to such a time as was fit. None other could ever understand, and here where I found him, and now where I found him, I could only stay. I was still in the world; and the world awaited me. Desiderium.
