Marooned

No flower, tree or creature to give respite from this barren place. I am unsure how I came to be here. Marooned in this place and without memory. Surrounded by a watery horizon, as unbroken as my solitude. Only the sun to stir my thoughts. It voyages its hazy stratum of crystalline blue. It takes the chill from my skin as my recumbent body melds with the pockmarked rock. This small oasis of fading life, set upon an unending desert of ocean. Rock, pointing to the sky like some accusatory finger.

Seasons pass. Drifting upon the onerous tide of time, I have felt colder, older, closer to the rock, somehow. One day, I too will be staring at an uncaring sky, reproach within unseeing eyes. Such is my existence that even a repetitive sunset represents an opus to the senses. The variegated textures of cloud juxtaposed against the delicate amber vignette of dusk. This is my daily bread, my only sustenance, until him.

He came with the storm. I clung to the rock as the ocean arose against me in a nocturnal rage. Its seditious heart enveloped me. In its onslaught, the night threatened to take me. Drowning in this godforsaken place of torment. For what seemed an eternity, I clung to my ebbing life.

Dawn broke upon my swimming thoughts, like memory. Like some ancient mariner, I bit my lip, attempting to affirm something beyond mortality. As blood fell, I tasted life and saw his odalisque form lodged in a small fissure, naked, prone. I wondered if my eyes deceived me as they perceived him through his beguiling camouflage of midnight skin. By the grace of providence, he was breathing. I remained motionless, until sunlight contrived that our shadows merge. He stirred.

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Without thought, I reached for him. Turning his head, I placed a kiss upon his cheek. Waking eyes smiled into mine. At once, a blur of recollection stole away time. I knew that face...that form. Upon his parted lips, I traced my hand, kissed him once more. I cradled his head to my heart like some precious work of art.

Without the trite impediment of words, I lay next to him, feeling his glorious skin on mine. His body was how I remembered it. Smooth, impassive, perfect. Just to lay next to him brought reason and meaning to a thousand inconsolable nights. My eyes, words, attempted to capture him, failed. I stroked his fleecy black hair, became aware of an awakening in his loins. In the toying sunbeams, he smiled. His reassuring glance made love to me as it exploded my heart.

"I'm sorry" I withdrew, "I thought I remembered you. I guess that we are simply two strangers washed up on some remote shore. There is no past anymore, the present is all that we share."

Perhaps this was more than just chance? Maybe the tumultuous seas rendered us prisoners of some shared circumstance.

"I love you." He whispered, his palm brushing my shoulder. For a moment, the three words seemed incomprehensible, abstract. Then something awoke in me. His touch brought dawn to a perpetual midnight in my thoughts.

I lay beside him in the small fissure. His arms encircled me and the world altered. It seemed insubstantial. A new world resonated to the drumming of his heart. His laugh gentle, like the lullabies of waves. He pressed me to the rock, his manhood on my stomach, burning with urgent intention. Our kisses radiated through my being like starbursts. His regal eyes perhaps yearning to slake the barren lands of my enduring emptiness. I yielded to his hunger, clasped his shoulders as he answered aeons of faithless prayer. Dispelling despair and loneliness, he connected with my soul.

Beyond some universal angst, we assumed the mantle of immortals. Voyaging worlds like Odysseus, Virgil. Drowning in bliss, he slaked barren lands. Quickening all I thought dead and buried by time's hourglass of sand. At last, my saviour, my communion with the divine. Plunging into me deeper than thought, my Nubian prince. Senses sung his name to eternity evermore, ever since. We made love, reinvented love, resurrected love. Breathless in passion we held each other in redolent pastures of Elise. His seed brought verdant life to the desert within me. An ecstasy imagined, experienced, sacred in all its majesty.

With the sun on our backs, he speaks of liberation, yet somehow, I am his slave in my emancipation. Our kiss lasts until the world looses substance, transfigures. White figures dance about us like angels. Still, I hear the steady pulse of his heart, our heart, my heart. He speaks to me...

"So, you've finally decided to join us." Instead of the jagged rocks...a strange symmetry of line taking form like an idea.

"Three years to the day. And you said that I was the drama queen." The vague silhouette of his figure turns.

"What's the prognosis doc?"

"Good, I am pleased to say. Three years is a long time to be in a coma, but he has every chance of making a full recovery. I will notify his next of kin. Perhaps you should get some rest now Martin." Martin? Martin is a word that I know...from the mist, his face comes close, kisses me with a great tenderness. He whispers to me under his breath.

"Listen Eddy, I think you ought to thank your lucky stars or somethin'. They said that I'd loose you, but I just kept hanging on in there. I knew you'd pull through. It was touch and go, but I can tell that you are hearing me. I love you Eddy."

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