Torchlight is something seen in the distance, within the desperate scenes of some movies. The light grows closer and becomes more intense in accord with the emotions in the pursued, felonious personage. The light catches up, held in the clutches of the advancing throng, and to the order of the circling account, the torchlights and bearers overwhelm the quarry.
There is a small ecstacy in capture, because the rule of fear and uncertainty is finished, and the promise of rest… absolute, impenetrable death.
Age, if it is to be regarded as a determined noun, is likewise a pursuing force, but one of corrosion, more than light. The flesh fails in ways we can recognise, number and strain so valiantly to forestall, but the abundant parts of ourselves, the ones we trust, indeterminately fail in the functions of latter days, just as our cherished dwellings shed the luster of newness, and whither with the hours...with decades.
By either calculation, things pass away, caught in the measured elation of the grand capture. Despite the attrition of the body, a life is an astounding thing… And thus two lives intermingled are equally astounding. Two may craft a mixture of resolve and the discovery of still-unanswered questions, saving one-another from being captured too soon, broadening the radiant fan of circumstances left within their singular history.
"My Darling, sometimes I can't make my heart slow down when I see you in the distance, and I know you are spanning that green lawn to greet me. My heart dances, like the moments we shared years ago, when we watched the the lightning over the plains, struggling within the cold, advancing cloud front... I thought of low flying birds aheads of storms."
Sometimes, on clearer days, the sunlight spills in drooling pools of light onto the lawns, the trees, and even indoors onto the polished floors. If I were made of metal, or merely a spirit, I could watch it forever…