I feel I must apologise for any confusion from my part.
Even now as I think of what to write and record, attempt to organise the chaotic memories of my mind, there are only a few occasions that I deem, necessary. In this long life of mine, I have witnessed scenes that would confuse, confound and corrupt... but I don't wish for my record to become some flight of fancy, but rather, a lesson.
A lesson in what I have learnt... where I truly learnt something more.
One of many such lessons was my first encounter, with 'Love'.
'Love' was the same as me, drifting constantly, following the pull, that irresistible calling that echoed out across the expanse of all, chaining us to purpose.
It was on a planet, long since worn to dust that we met, both existing, looking down upon love, and watching what I believed was the death of it.
Two blue beasts lay still, ragged fur ruffling in the billowing wind of a desolate plain. Above them circled a cloud covered sky, painting the land in blotches of shadow as light vainly tried to break through. In this world the only light that shined was that of unsavoury souls, of the predatory glint in darkened eyes and the gleam of clenched jaws.
If I was able too, I would draw this scene from memory and scar it into this paper. To truly inscribe the forlorn feeling that world gave, to make you see the long shadows that drew into the horizon, hiding savage exchanges of life and death as those who survived walked out, prowling the land as sandy winds tousled them, their only companion in a blighted world of ever present shade.
I know that the words I am using do not do it justice, but I must try, for what is the point of being, if I cannot do something so simple.
The irony still strikes me now, that in such a forlorn world, with no civilisation to speak of, no language to break barriers or sentience of thought, was where I encountered 'love' for the first time.
We could feel each other.
No forms to skin our bodies, we were separate from the world but part of it still, both looking down upon the same two creatures, both guided by a different pull.
I remember our exchange, the same and yet so different.
"What guides you?"
"A pull different to your own."
"..."
"I am Death."
"I am Love."
It is only by writing now that I remember the small details so easily overlooked. The difference in our tones, mine slow and deep whilst 'Love's' was tantalising, a constant nibble that worked away at all who heard it.
"Why are you here?"
"I have not yet learnt why. But they drew me here."
"They drew us both here."
Below us still were the blue beasts, true creatures of survival. Lean powerful bodies of feral muscle, ready to pounce and lash in a moment. They prowled this land of solitude, drifting between shades, hunting for that one moment of weakness in another whilst covering their own. And yet, two such lonely figures were crouched low, supporting one another as they rested, unguarded towards the other.
"How long have you watched?"
"Long enough to see the start of love."
"And what is Love?"
"That which I will follow."
By the time I had arrived on this planet I had already seen death many times, I did not know and still do not know if 'Love' had experienced death, but I knew she was soon to experience it. For below us, one of the beasts was drawing its last. And what use am I aside from hounding deaths own steps.
Nuzzled together they lay, one warm the other growing cold, its time dwindling as blood fell, dying its fur a deeper shade, one that matched the shadows which would become its grave. The dying beast was silent, no energy to spare, no way to sound its sorrow, it simply remained crouched on a plain of cracked and broken rock, leaning into the figure of the one it loved, letting the slow winds tussle its fur as it drifted further from love and closer to death.
Neither of them ready for what comes next.
"Can you save him from death?"
"I cannot."
"Please... you, must know a way..."
"Death can be stalled but never stopped."
There are times when I speak without action, not knowing why I use the words I do, but I voice them regardless. Perhaps this is what following Death has led me to become?
Curious about the life of those that die.
"Tell me of these beasts... tell me of their journey that has led them from love to death."
"I will tell you of their journey where Love brought them together, where one chose to die for the sake of love."
I will now tell you of what 'Love' told me, a story within a story as it were.
How quaint.
The beasts have no name, for their is none to grant them one, they are discarded as they are born, left to fend for themselves. To carve their own way through a life of solitude, to journey through the myriad layers of shade, survival their only goal. 'Love' told me of how they met by chance, wary of one-another, seeing the other as no more than a predator, a meal and an end.
In distance they travelled, always wary, always cautious.
Two beasts of no tongue depending on only themselves.
The change came when food grew scarce, the beasts ventured further into the desolate lands, stepping past and climbing over the dangers in their path, always separated by the distance between them, but driven closer as the threats they faced grew more dire.
Until their was no distance between them at all.
My argument at this time was that danger had led to their entanglement of love, instead 'Love' told me of how all along they had cared for the other, maybe they knew of the actions they took, I do not know. When one fed the other would pause and slow, when one rested so would the other, through shadow after shadow they walked together, two beings living as one.
Seeking refuge in the other.
It was through this their love began, unable to be spoken, not needing to be acknowledged, for what is shared does not need to be proven.
But all stories must meet an end... even mine is no different.
Finally the beasts met their match, a creature, an abomination more hideous and powerful than them had struck as they rested, tearing at them as the distance between them was torn. Through the savage mauling of tooth and claw they resisted, winning at the cost of love as one of the beasts lay wounded, damaged beyond its own means to heal, its body sacrificed to save the other.
It would not be spared from death despite its victory.
Even so, they resumed their journey, their bodies close yet so far as the distance between life and death grew, a gap that no amount of love could bridge.
It was with a final stop that the beasts lay still, uncaring of the long shadows drawn to the horizon, of the light that vainly attempted to leak through. They rested together, their hearts and bodies as one.
One warm, the other cold.
It was with the end of 'Love's' story that the beast relinquished it's last breathe, accompanied by the mournful wake of its lover, dyed in blood as it's howl reached to the skies, caring not if its presence was known.
"I will remember the death of such love."
'Love' interrupted me here, our views different.
"Where you saw the death of love, I saw the start of it, the struggle of it and the mourning for it. The yearning for love that is no longer there."
The pull was beginning to guide me once more, shifting my attention as I began to drift. Quietly leaving 'Love' alone, covered in shade, hovering above as she watched the beast bellow, giving voice to its sorrow, refusing to move on, refusing to forget its love.
There was nothing more for me here, I had seen the death that was due.
"I believe that love cannot so simply die. 'Death', perhaps they will love again...do you think it possible?"
"I do not know... but I wish it so. For you."
"...As do I. I have seen love in many forms. The blossoming, and the retreat but this is the first time it has led to death. When your very meaning is gone, what do you continue for?"
I only vaguely recall my answer at that time, but I hope it was heard.
"...For the memory of it."