Road to Arcadia: the Path East

A letter to you...

Starbeam,

I'm beginning this letter pessimistically, but I'll admit, I do that more often than not.

I'm writing this because I have this feeling in my heart that our final moments will be here shortly, if they have not already come to pass. I want you to be with me more than anything, but I can't deny that is not how this path is being laid.

From the beginning I knew your path forward was not going to be an easy one, but now I see just how treacherous the road ahead is.

That is not an indictment of your future, it is a guarantee that you will see yours through. If we emerge from the womb fighting, our resolve becomes stronger than our bodies could ever hope to be. You will not take tomorrow for granted, starbeam. This I know.

We are the amalgam story of two separate tales of paradise, hopeful fables cut from different tongues with mirrored dreams. You are living the life I couldn't bring myself to love while I am seeing a side of the world that those around you won't believe exists. How can we deny the beauty of two opposite equals? How could we allow one to go unwritten without the other?

As much as I want to condemn the decisions of those with more fear in their heart than desire for change, in the quietest of moments I can't bring myself to tighten the grip around my vices. I want to curse their names, but instead find myself etching them into my pages like benevolent icons. May you see this as a lesson in the art of forgiveness and not a weakness of resolve. All we have guaranteed to us in these times is the strength manufactured from within.

Tell your mother I love her.

Tell your grandmother I forgive her.

Tell your father that you are made of the same material as the brightest suns in our galaxy and I will send word to the spirit of your grandfather letting him know we prevailed in spite of our failures.

When you turn your back on the rising tides to search for me on the horizon, do not blind yourself to the rising wall of water behind you. We do not have that luxury. Run on the beach, cut your feet on the shells and learn to scream at the top of your lungs.

I will hear you.

I am always listening.

Forever yours,

KJG