Promises Unkept

Dark Horses and Deep Kisses

‘A DIVINE HARBOUR OF TEMPERAMENTS.’

It said in caption.

Eden paused at the line. And breathed in deeply. She felt unsure of this book but began, all the same;

A DIVINE HARBOUR OF TEMPERAMENTS.

It is a mystery of conscience, a profundity of harmony, a truth beyond belief, a lie universally conceded that in hatred lies the real bliss of love. In pain veils the real stroke of pleasure. In loss lies the real savor of gain.

And death.

In death remains the true verve of living.

This mystery, this harmony, this truth and this lie, this love and this hate, this pain and this pleasure, this loss, its gain and the dead and the living_ these be the several dark horses galloping the same ground, rampaging the same establishment, as they impose on man his limits, they curfew his dreams, they knock down his vastness.

They make him small.

They make him feel content, complete in his smallness.

They make him believe in ethereal passions. They pacify his zeal. They delude him with their mendacity.

Human starts to deem that he is immortal.

He isn’t.

Nothing is immortal but time. Past.

Past is immortal.

For nothing has remained and shall remain as everlasting as past.

A man can alter future with a single flick of his finger, the present belongs to him but the past….the past is a monument, it has been sculpted, the sculpture is forgotten and the artist is unknown.

It is_

 

Thump!!

Eden had been so lost in the unsettling lines of the pages, that she had failed to perceive her path and suddenly ran into a tumult of wind-ridden curtains, the balcony door; her feet were coiled in the labyrinth of the drapes making her fall hard right on her back.

The book fell off her finger as she sat stunned there, hunched among the flapping curtains that seemingly were mocking her off her own absent mindedness.

No wonder, she was hopelessly disappointed in herself and this vague air she had recently acquired.

The wind was tumultuously annoying as she groped for her books on the floor around her, grasping at the lace curtain that had slapped her face for the nth time in this instant.

She found the book and was now making for herself to stand up when a presence on her side shocked her this time and her slender figure fell back on the rug, with an annoyed squeak.

“Miss Henley.” Remarked the familiar, manly, and now amused voice. “Quite a way to spend your evening, I must say.”

Eden looked up to see the face of her addresser but the flinging curtains totally detained her from it. In the haze however, she saw a smart, tall figure standing by, watching her from above.

“Mr. Edwin.” She grimaced, dusting her hand. “I was hoping to have passed out unnoticed from this embarrassing accident but here you are, a witness and scorning me already.”

He smiled, then extended his hand towards her and she was about to take it thinking that he was offering help when she heard him say. “What’s that book? Show me.”