I once fell in love with a woman as beautiful as the first bloom in spring, but as hollow as a sad melody carried by the wind from across miles of ocean. Her skin was as soft as the surface of a young rose petal, yet as white as one. Her hair was as dark and glossy as tranquil night skies, which glistened when filtered sunlight hits it through the treetops, a vision worthy of impeding a man of his breath. The reason I’m writing this letter is that she allowed me one moment to reflect on my life before I completely give myself to her, losing my love and life as consequence. Nevertheless, I could think of no other way. Up until now, my life had been as hollow as she was, making me unable to see the difference whether I should consider acute sagacity or not. I did not see the point, though, whereas I finally decided to join her in eternal dance. It started when I went hunting one morning in the woods just off the shoreline, a little way from home. The day was as untainted as the soul of an innocent child, adorned with clear blue skies and a promise to many possibilities. I was alone, unsurprisingly, for the prospect of hunting parties did not quite warm up to me yet. With rifle in hand, I waded into the oceans of green accompanied by many a song. Birds; calls of nature, natural wind chimes, soothing emphasis to the wonders that surrounded me. At about a quarter past noon, I stumbled across an old building nestled at the foot of a slight upsweep, a large cottage-like dwelling covered with colorful creepers and moss, explaining years of abandonment. Its windows were missing, as was the front door, leaving wide, dark apertures framed by eroded stone, transforming cottage into skeletal decay. However, the quality of the sun caught every particle that floated on the air, enlivening the scene into that of fantasy. The only thing missing was a small, clear brook running parallel to the side of the cottage to compliment the set of present elements. From the left-hand side of the cottage, some of the barely noticeable shingled roof was missing too, a result to the harsh qualities of time, perhaps. From inside, I heard music, as if musicians have taken up residence and flourished in its seclusion. Curious enough to draw a horse to water, I placed my rifle against a moss covered rock, after which I slowly made my way through thick underbrush, intoxicated by the sound. I entered the dwelling as if needing to be in there with the music, needing to know what that implied. That was when I first laid my eyes on her. The sun threw its filtered rays through the opening where roof should have been, painted its illumination across the empty interior and got absorbed by the beauty dancing in the center of it all. In addition, I just found the center of the universe. Her gown of pure white – a shade lighter than her skin – glistened and flowed around her legs as she placed one bare foot after the other, in perfect harmony to music emanated as if out of thin air. She smiled at me sweetly as she swayed to the trancelike rhythm, flexing and relaxing most parts of her lean body, expanding and contracting her well-rounded chest as seductively as is inherent to any woman. From my point of view, all else – my history, my life, everything I worked for, everything important – shed off me like dry skin from a snake, and she became the centermost point in my universe. I realized that the life I have lived had only been a transient phase into which I finally found the way to my only destiny, to join with her in the eternal movement of dancing. Yet I saw that her dark eyes were as cold as ice, even though her contradicting smile was as sweet. I detected no soul within her, the hollowness of her heart like Antarctic reality, pushing out of her, enveloping me with its crushing significance. Connection seemed irrelevant. That did not put me off, though. I was in love, and already knew that my love would never receive an answer. Yet, I could not bear leaving this cottage without returning to something similar, even if a tad worse. Therefore, I came to the decision to relinquish everything I am within these pages, for I have found something worth dying for. Strange as it seems, love knows no bounds. She is calling me. I have to end this letter by declaring that if someone, anyone finds this, have the courtesy to give it to the world, give it to your dreams, or burn it, by whichever decision you may find delight, but never forget that wonder is but a melody away. Alas, you will never hear from me again.
This one is really beautiful, and matches . . .