Tragedy

22.3.25

It wasn’t what was wanted. Even if it’s what I need. It wasn’t what Fate planned. Even if it’s who I am. Tragedy has no escape. I am lost within her gaze. Desperately desolate, what was it that I hoped? Did I wish upon the stars in the time before they passed? Did all the candles that I blew lose their meaning with their flame? Wills and wishes beget only pain. Despondently desperate, Fate is not a friend.

When the clouds pass us by, they come to bring rain. When the sun shines on high, it beckons to the moon. The blowing wind should hold us back, the ocean’s tide should stop our track. It is no more than this world’s order that time would pass to pass us by. And where we go, I do not know. The only look of sympathy was a shining tear in Tragedy who reached her hand and took hold mine and spoke to me such words divine. She spoke to me, her lips unmoved and spoke such words right where I loomed:

“Fear not my voice, my fettered friend. I too am slave to Fate. Fate commands my every move, she knows me more than you. Do not weep your loss of life, do not mourn your memory. Life for you has yet to come, mine shall never be. All I am is Grief’s reflection. To her alone now must you turn.”

Tragedy then left me there. And it was there I shed my tear: my first and only one. For all the pain I’d ever known, it was not that that brought despair. It was the loss of the hand that had held onto mine, it was the loss of the face with whom to share my mind. Tragedy was my one true friend. The only one who understood. The pain she caused was not her own. We both fell victim to Fate.

So in her stead, I turned to Grief. And grieving, I did mourn. “Grief,” I said, tear fast in eye, “what is it I have done?” And to me, Grief did turn. In her, I saw no face. “What have you done?” she asked to me. I saw the absence of sadness’s smile as to me she spoke. “What you have done,” she said in sorrowful voice, “is commit Fate’s greatest sin.”

“I’ve done no wrong, lived only good, no sin have I committed. If Fate should curse me, let it be, but tell me what I have done.” And Grief grew sad, her face the absence of tears, as to me turned her empty eyes and answered in stricken agony: a voice so backed by force of woe for words to break my heart: “You wanted,” she said. And disappeared. The absence of her eyes pierced my soul.

Alone; as I was. Lost; as I am. Mourning something that never was. Longing for something that can never be. As Fate laughs from on high. “Pray to me, you silly fool,” she speaks between her laughter. “Beg me for mercy, or mock me for mayhem. My hands hold your heart, my eyes hold your mind. You are mine, and I am yours. Do you fail to remember your vows?”

“Want,” I said, “is that my sin? Are the stains I bare of tears and blood borne of my desire? Did I wish for a life? Did I wish to live? Did I wish for a home and a place to grieve? Did I wish upon the passing stars and pray before the burning flame? Did the sin that to you did I commit consist of none but hope? I vowed to you nothing. I gave to you nothing. I want from you nothing. I am, to you, nothing.”

And Fate smirked: “Happiness? Is that what you seek? How I once longed to be free. But when you look up to the sky, what is it that you see? If not the stars and sun and moon, if not the skies and clouds of rain, if not the life that you have wrought, then what is it that you see? Because when I look down on this sorrowful world, I see only one thing. And that sorrowful, sorrowful thing is nothing other than you. You say to me I’m not your friend, you beg of me to let it end, but where are you now? Perhaps this may be the day when all shall come to change. For if you did not know me, never would you beauty.”

And though it was not what I wanted it was that that I did need. It was not what Fate had planned. It was only what I wrought. I watched her leave me. Pain beget me. Life release me. I could not hold on. I lost all I held. Hope not hold me up. Happiness not solid ground. Though I do reach, my hands cannot grasp. And where do I fall? I open my eyes to the eyes of Beauty. Whose absence is mine to fill.