Unyielding Grief

The light that fulfilled, the light that enticed, the light that was shrouded in the dark, was forever gone.

And with it my light, my most northern star, my heart had evaporated from this earth.

And yet my heart still bled bullet tears, corroding the earth as they struck it. They burnt through the barren rock beneath my feet with a thousand times the fervour of the venom that the most vile serpent to ever curse this damned land on which I wept could dream of conjuring. Scarlet embers embedded deep within my skin, but I remained, frozen. I vowed that I would remain ever frozen. I vowed that the final waves of heat from the dying sun itself would never melt my manacles of ice. For it was my duty to remember. I knew not why, but that it simply was.

The first time was surprising, I believed that there was nothing, that there would always be nothing but alas a hand was offered. A skeletal yet soft hand, and a voice with it, strong and persistent, it fit death. As what is death if not a strong, persistent mercy? It said, “I suppose I can let you have this.” But my gaze was unfocused, I was still lost. Death waited for a time watching me as it always had but with time it left.

And so, I watched.

I watched civilisations rise and fall. I watched war and birth, pain and joy, suffering and hope. I watched humanity die.

The second time was somehow ever more shocking than the first, for I believed I had been left behind. This time was more difficult, I was no longer frozen by time but by myself and my oath. For a second time, it said, “I suppose I can let you have this.” and I saw its skeletal hand reach out. I studied it for some time for did I really wish to watch more, even if it meant I would remember? After an age, Death left.

I stood as the ground under me shook till the mountains were dust. I stood as the seas disappeared and life withered. I stood through fire and fury.

I persisted through the ice. I persisted through the darkness. I persisted alone and unafraid.

I was still. The earth was no more. Then I drifted.

It was cold as I drifted. It was quiet as I drifted. It was peaceful as I drifted.

I had clarity for the second time in my life.

I drifted for some time, occasionally basking in the light of a supernova or the warmth of a giant. But most of the time I drifted cold, alone and at peace.

Galaxies were created before my eyes, new life was forged in my gaze, the universe continued, relentless.

“I suppose I can let you have this,” said my dearest friend in existence, death. It proffered its hand out to me, the greatest mercy that has and would ever be given, for everyone knows death does not wait for you to be ready. I swatted it away without a thought. I would never be ready to forget.

I would rather suffer for eternity serving my penance than allow myself the blissful flames of hellfire, the ignorance of asphodel or the embrace of a cruel God and chance forgetting them. For I had failed, and I would remain. Till the end.