A Funeral by the Sea

 I once knew a soul that was as kind as could be and found me just in time. They were lighthearted and full of play, curious about the universe around them, and trusting of the world with eyes big and bold. Truth was always the answer and joy was the means to arrive there. They considered all that was around them. Observant and fair, they watched the world spin day after day, never ceasing to learn something new. Something profound that would change their world as they knew it. 

Their heart was bigger than their mind, encompassing more than they knew. Capable of cultivating a love so bright that it blinded them from understanding the extent of their shine. How could such a beautiful and expansive being know nothing of their light, yet see the sometimes near-invisible light in all that is? They were far more worthy than what they knew. Mistreated by others and the world, they retreated into their own to heal and were secretly even more beautiful in their times of spiral and darkness. Even their shadows felt of great power and importance, like the leap to step back into the light would make that person even more loving and strong, if only they knew. 

This person was caring, considerate, and empathetic with natural grace and ease, directing the flow of love from some mysterious, heavenly source into the hearts and minds of those who crossed their path. They were poetic and filled with the majesty and royalty of the divine, entrancing their space and identity with purple light and a warmth that radiates from their skin. They were something I tried for so long to capture, to learn from, to become inspired by. 

Until this person died, I had no idea who they really were. I set their limp and lifeless body onto a cedar pyre built for the end of this being's life and I gently pushed it out to sea without a tear in my eye or a thought in my mind. Finally, there was silence within as I watched the floating pyre drift further and further into the rising, blazing sun. A single tear fell peacefully from an otherwise dry eye, I drew back and paused pensively. A deep breath of salty air filled my lungs with love and my grip ceased to hold. The arrow flew, aflame and angry with passion, striking the pyre in a matter of moments. The cedar caught fire and became a bright and burning mass before my bow hit the ground. I turned and began to walk away from the water's edge, no words or prayers needed. For I watched their burning body disappear just moments ago, and I knew that this being was gone. 

But the soul that I saw the world in? The soul that caressed me with healing love and showed me to a place of life inside once more, the soul that helped me to align all of who I am and solidify her in proper gold? Well, it turns out they were but a reflection of my own. An imposter that only knew how to show me my own. So instead of having a funeral for the being that burned out at sea, I had a christening. A ceremony that dedicated all of the love and all of the credit I gave to someone who didn't exist, back to its rightful place. Back to me. Because it was always just a reflection of me. Every feeling, every beautiful thing I experienced and admired, and every drop of magic I felt was coming from me. Drawn out by a soul who only knew how to reflect mine, but never how to be love in their own. And you know what I hold my glass up to in celebration today? The death of a fatal belief that would have killed me if I did not push it out to sea first. 

It was always my own love, it was always me.