english,
May 3, 2005:
It’s dark.
The Him carries me.
He enters a room.
He places me on a bed.
He opens a spectrum in the air.
"Watch."
I stare.
Pixels emerge, drifting like a wind, coalescing.
It’s a mechanical image of a person.
A girl.
Beautiful: scarlet hair, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, white dress sparkling.
Who is she?
I look at the Him.
"Who is she?"
The Him gives no answer.
I sleep.
May 3, 2030:
Twenty-five years ago, the first sight.
I am looking outside.
The golden light of the afternoon glitters.
“You endure your longing,” the Him speaks.
"Yes."
The Him smiles.
"’Til when? The Her?" I ask.
The Him disappears.
May 3, 2012:
I am singing a song of rejoicing.
It is near.
It is imminent: the Her.
A glorious morning.
The sky, shimmering.
Perfect.
The Him, appears.
Apparition.
"Not today."
The sky pales.
May 3, 2020:
I am sitting in a white chair.
My hands are resting on a white table.
A white chair is opposite me.
Empty.
"Coffee?" the Her asks.
"Thanks."
She slides the coffee mug to my hand.
I sip.
The Her smiles at me.
"It’s cold today. Perfect for reading, isn't it?"
"Yes. Perhaps."
"Your books?"
"I have no books with me."
She giggles.
"I'll get you some."
She stands from the white chair.
She disappears.
Phantasm.
Unfulfilled.
May 3, 2001:
Void.
Everything is black.
“Elected one.”
A deep voice.
“Who are you?” I speak.
"I am."
"You are Him."
The blackness refracts.
The reality shifts.
I wake up.
I see.
This is the day I am born.
May 3, 2056:
"Him, I am tired. You promised me..."
The Him speaks.
"Ye of little faith?"
"I am faithful."
"Then question not."
Colors refract.
The reality shifts.
The Him hums.
I see.
This is my death.
This is the beginning.
Someone holds my hand.
The Her.
May 3, 2042:
The reality intersects a reality.
The reality is Him.
A reality is mine.
Without the reality, a reality does not exist.
The Her.
In the reality?
Or in a reality?
Music plays.
I can see the Her.
Beautiful.
The Her speaks, "Where am I?"
I question, "Where you are?"
"Yes. Tell me. Which reality?"
I cannot speak.
The Her speaks.
"I am in your reality."
Bound.
Not bound.
The existence between the reality and a reality.
May 3, 3045:
The stars are glittering.
The sea is whispering.
The snow is ascending.
"It's May 3," the Her's voice.
I hold her hand.
"Yes."
The Her rests her head on my shoulder.
We watch the horizon.
Tranquil.
"We have been here for a long time."
I look at the space.
The snow emerges from nothing.
"Yes, we have been. In the reality."
The Her kisses my cheeks.
"Our time is fulfilled."
I shake my head.
"No. Eternity is not yet fulfilled."
The Her laughs.
"Then we'll fulfill eternity."
I nod.
"Yes, we will."
May 3, 0000
The Him elects.
The Him fulfills.
The Him's time is timeless.
Literary (Submission): May 3
May 3, 2005:
It’s dark.
The Him carries me.
He enters a room.
He places me on a bed.
He opens a spectrum in the air.
"Watch."
I stare.
Pixels emerge, drifting like a wind, coalescing.
It’s a mechanical image of a person.
A girl.
Beautiful: scarlet hair, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, white dress sparkling.
Who is she?
I look at the Him.
"Who is she?"
The Him gives no answer.
I sleep.
May 3, 2030:
Twenty-five years ago, the first sight.
I am looking outside.
The golden light of the afternoon glitters.
“You endure your longing,” the Him speaks.
"Yes."
The Him smiles.
"’Til when? The Her?" I ask.
The Him disappears.
May 3, 2012:
I am singing a song of rejoicing.
It is near.
It is imminent: the Her.
A glorious morning.
The sky, shimmering.
Perfect.
The Him, appears.
Apparition.
"Not today."
The sky pales.
May 3, 2020:
I am sitting in a white chair.
My hands are resting on a white table.
A white chair is opposite me.
Empty.
"Coffee?" the Her asks.
"Thanks."
She slides the coffee mug to my hand.
I sip.
The Her smiles at me.
"It’s cold today. Perfect for reading, isn't it?"
"Yes. Perhaps."
"Your books?"
"I have no books with me."
She giggles.
"I'll get you some."
She stands from the white chair.
She disappears.
Phantasm.
Unfulfilled.
May 3, 2001:
Void.
Everything is black.
“Elected one.”
A deep voice.
“Who are you?” I speak.
"I am."
"You are Him."
The blackness refracts.
The reality shifts.
I wake up.
I see.
This is the day I am born.
May 3, 2056:
"Him, I am tired. You promised me..."
The Him speaks.
"Ye of little faith?"
"I am faithful."
"Then question not."
Colors refract.
The reality shifts.
The Him hums.
I see.
This is my death.
This is the beginning.
Someone holds my hand.
The Her.
May 3, 2042:
The reality intersects a reality.
The reality is Him.
A reality is mine.
Without the reality, a reality does not exist.
The Her.
In the reality?
Or in a reality?
Music plays.
I can see the Her.
Beautiful.
The Her speaks, "Where am I?"
I question, "Where you are?"
"Yes. Tell me. Which reality?"
I cannot speak.
The Her speaks.
"I am in your reality."
Bound.
Not bound.
The existence between the reality and a reality.
May 3, 3045:
The stars are glittering.
The sea is whispering.
The snow is ascending.
"It's May 3," the Her's voice.
I hold her hand.
"Yes."
The Her rests her head on my shoulder.
We watch the horizon.
Tranquil.
"We have been here for a long time."
I look at the space.
The snow emerges from nothing.
"Yes, we have been. In the reality."
The Her kisses my cheeks.
"Our time is fulfilled."
I shake my head.
"No. Eternity is not yet fulfilled."
The Her laughs.
"Then we'll fulfill eternity."
I nod.
"Yes, we will."
May 3, 0000
The Him elects.
The Him fulfills.
The Him's time is timeless.
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