In the eyes of God

I don't know where I am. It is dark in here. The occasional flashes of the orange light coming out of nowhere light up the room for the mere seconds and then the darkness sinks in again. But it is enough for me to notice a TV with a broken monitor and a burning candle. Its flame flickers slightly; it gives almost no light. 

There is a mirror in a corner. It reflects nothing but some dark figure.

I can see him. He is sitting on a chair, his head bent. His pose is casual, but he seems tense at the same time. He doesn't move. He looks like a wax figure created in his honor. But he is alive. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

It is hard to breath. The air is stuffy and moist. It feels as if we are trapped somewhere under ground.

There is this unleashed tenseness in the air. I can feel the tears and the deep hidden grief. It feels as if something has happened and he is mourning now or something is going to happen. My heart aches, but there is no way I can understand or feel the real depth of his sorrow.

The orange light flashes, blinding me for few seconds.

Now I am standing close to him, my hands cupping his face. The brown locks frame his face. His skin feels soft under my fingers. He is so breathtakingly beautiful that I want to cry. No matter what he says, I know he has no flaws. His eyes are closed, the eyelashes flatter slightly. I can see a tear rolling down his cheek. I am totally consumed by his pain. I feel sad and hurt at the same time, because I can do nothing to cease his pain. I am so empty, so small and so worthless compared to him. My heart swells with grief for this unearthly beauty. I am ready to give all my love and all my strength to him.

He must have sensed it, for he opens his amazingly blue eyes and looks at me. I can't tear my eyes away from his. I breath in sharply, feeling that a wave of new emotions rises in me. I feel so incredibly happy and so incredibly sad at the same time.

For I have for the first time in my life looked into the eyes of a god.

Kamui






February 2, 2004