You were made at the intersection of Gold and Planets. Your spark was life before it had a heartbeat.
You were the perfection gods’ minds can’t reach. You were the fully said words people not dare confess. You were the music that heaven hears in its dreams and leaves its memory painfully speechless. You were Lucifer who denied hell and burnt it into flowers.
You were not God and you were not Adam, you were their master!
You created reality in a single touch, on Earth, not in an empty promise after death. You did not know death and death did not know you. You created truth before eternity because you knew that truth lasted longer than any eternity. You created the right and not the fare.
You created life.
When my naked feet touched the freshly born Nordic harbors, it sent a crystal shiver into my heart, splitting the muscle into little pieces screaming into my veins. I felt that life wasn’t possible here, I was a scared Eve, out in the cold air, breathing panic. I had been broken a few times before I saw you. You, the ancient fallen world’s antagonism!
Your pure existence demanded I had a purpose. Your creation of right made anything else a lie, unless spoken, unless shaped into the ruthless truth. You asked about my life’s vision without any words. I had forgotten how to recognize a God because of the few lifetimes when I had stopped looking for one. In your perfection, you could have never been a slave to the world, in your truth you could have only been a God.
You saw my despair but you didn’t know of such things. You didn’t know I was looking for perfection and I wanted to give my life to it. You had never left your Olympus, you didn’t know such weaknesses exist. I had been living for too long without hope of ever finding it. I needed something, someone, to give my life to, so you gave me another day. Because you kissed me with the perfection of your mind, you gave me my sight back.
When you took me to the beach I knew that your feet were anchoring the Earth and that the planets moved after the straight lines of your body. The wind avoided your cheeks, not to stain them, the sand drew back from your feet, the waves bowed to your voice. I knew you couldn’t see all this from the height of your thoughts, you were too clean. Your hands drew stars, an invisible habit to you, sparks of forgotten magic to me.
You came behind me and wrapped your arms around the horizon line. You said that the sun burns only those who fear it. But I feared you more than I feared the sun, my heart was racing in becoming dust. It was the first pain that brought me back to life.
“What do you dream of?” you asked.
“Distances!” I said. “… to the Sun…to Jupiter’s Moon, Europa. Planets, Moons, Galaxies. I dream about stopping the time in my volitation.”
You did, while awake.
You painted the walls of the first house on earth in the color of my dark eyes. I wanted us trapped in there, so you created the rest of the world in the palm of your hands, outside our windows: Nordic blizzards and auroras, endless rains and bird songs, sunsets and poems, wine and candles. The essentials.
While you were working, the skies filled up with music, the first language of the worlds.
I was haunted by the memory of the emptiness of the world before you created it. I remember carrying this burden, thinking: “If I were to find you, I would give my life for a second of pure admiration … I would give you everything and it would not be enough of a sacrifice, enough to redeem the purity your mind holds without knowing how scornful and shallow all the worlds around us are… without ever knowing it because it couldn’t be conceived inside you to start with…”
You touched my cheek and told me not to fear… you created our bed, shortening the distances in my dreams, stopping the time. I knew that genesis will take longer than 7 days.
And there was not a single second without justification. There was despair growing between us: we wanted to own each other’s lives, to put everything in words.
When we laid in bed together it was an endless rebirth of possessions, of purity, of the desires first shaped in Atlantis.
It was your hands everywhere, moving in perfection, your fingers in my mouth. I wanted to rip off your skin, your muscles, break your bones inside me. You demanded my life and I demanded yours because it was completeness. It was violence filling up the roofs of our sheets, you were lost, almost humanly, in my long hair. We were both slaves and gods and our screams were filling up your skies, the depths of oceans, the peaks of mountains, with thunders and peace and this is what our love was made of.
Every corner of the world was banishing loneliness out of existence. It was the only time we prayed… for oblivion to come before orgasm. It was painful to remember that the world existed as it did with us two feeling its other dimension, that of endless perfection. It weighed heavy on my eyelids, this rebirth, an untold one. This is how secrets came into being, something above the common, trapped inside the silver shell of our beautiful egoism. “Gather enough of these,” you said, “and you’ll become a saint!”
It was the first time I cried: all the other people lived in the reverse sense of words and their holiness was a lie!
I asked you to tell me the story of Heaven and Hell and you laughed the laugh of Gods. People feared that echo, they said it was the end of the world.
You said there is no Heaven and Hell. You said there is no other reality beside that which can be touched. You said Reality is what we make when we touch our skins and tongues. You said Reality is better than Heaven and Hell. You said Reality is courage, Heaven and Hell are a given. Courage is what we make when we’re inside one another, sin is when we’re not. And I knew then that I was ready to put my life at your feet. I knew that the real God is that of pleasure and life on this earth is made out of happiness and courage. And this is the truth.
You took my hand and walked me through your creation. You said we are all sent to the world to be gods, but we need boldness and lucidity to live up to it. You said the only fallen angels are those who crawl at the gates of other’s kingdoms instead of building their own, in their own view of their own minds. You said that the true gods are those who do not fear their minds and their truth. The true gods are those who own their lives and their perfection. The true gods are proud!
You gave me the supreme, purest form of my obsession and so you gave me life and a world for it. You made that world worthy. I gave you my life and you gave me wings for distances not known to men yet.
You walked me on the beaches as your most beloved trophy, and laughed at the world.
They did not know that in my naked selfish lust I received their creation and I was holding it in my palms while I was begging you to own me; you’ve put everything at my feet instead, we were each other’s kings.
Now I can live because I wanted to.
Now I can live because I know Gods exist in the world.