April, 30, 2008

Have I truly lived before he graced my long existence with his charm and light? Have I truly known the bliss of being revived each minute in the presence of a soul so like my own? Three hundred years between us seemed redundant, non-existent, a mere whim of time or some higher power with a mind of a newborn and understanding of a soul no better than that of a flower or a refined picture painted by the hand of a blind man. I have existed, trapped in a crystal ball of duty, rules and mundanity, reflecting any thought projected upon me,- me, an immortal, devoid of any sense - when he appeared. sunlight, freedom of the waves upon the chalk coast, millions of scents - from apple trees in bloom to the fragrant roses of the minster- weaving their spell in his voice.

I close my eyes, even now, two hundred years later, and his face resurfaces, so alive, so vibrant, with that smile of a born winner - a humble, boyishly charming, no sight of victorian rigidity about him. My golden boy, my only reason...my heartbeat is still yours.

~Lawrence Graves, Diary.