Convergence of the Ancients

"...Love saves us only if we want to be saved."- Bell Hooks

She was his salvation, he was her destruction. He was the endless darkness, she was the altruistic light that brought him home. He was the cold, bone-chilling abyss of sorrow, she was the warm, welcoming bliss of euphoria. The sun and moon, fire and water, dusk and dawn, heaven and earth, yin and yang, night and day. The contrary beings that deviate and harmonize with each other in every way, being drawn to one another yet repelling and resisting, the never-ending, beguiling cycle of good and evil. An ancient, familiar tale of opposition. But, in this story, the alluring pattern comes to the most spell-binding end.

Initially, they each detested the other. Although the light stood for and defended peace, the darkness was unmerciful and craved for war. In order to protect her virtues, the auspicious day had to duel the ominous night. Time passed as both tirelessly combated each other with boldness and belligerency. The intense yet seemingly effortless cacophony went on as doubt clashed with faith, hope with despair, cold-heartedness with compassion. The Light Queen's weapon was a rapier, forged out of cores of the hottest stars, and therefore radiated a defiant powder blue. The Dark King's blade was composed of dust scavenged from a scarlet nebulae, and accordingly diffused a dangerous blood red. The exchange seemed to last for years and years, and time dissolved. Each blow lasted an eternity, and the battle prolonged as the two who completed each other like contrasting puzzle pieces dueled. Eventually, the oppressive gladiator who fought ruthlessly and relentlessly met the queen's gaze. Her eyes were alight with such vehemence and resolve that it pierced his soul, destabilized his heart, and split him to the very bone. And so, he succumbed to the might of the valiant she-warrior. But, then something happened neither of the two expected.

In her victory, the day broke through the numerous layers of moondust and midnight luster of her defeated opponent and exposed a sliver of the brightest, starkest white. Shocked and ashamed, the wounded combatant withdrew into his bitter embrace of darkness, hiding all remains of the shining glimmer of hope. He was terrified at the prospect of revealing to her his true desires. Reaching out to others was always seen as a weakness from his perspective. Depending on another left him scarred, broken, and bruised. Consequently, the king relished in taking advantage of everything he had for his own benefit. And that's where he found he thrived most; all he wanted he made possible by his own efficient, although cruel, means. The queen on the other hand, put her needs before her wants. Once that was accomplished, everything else fell into place. Much like the ripple of a cascading waterfall into the open arms of the powerful waves of a river that leads to a vast ocean, doing righteous actions have the similar effect of profoundly affecting the one who performed the honest work.

Even though the darkness of the king's cloak enveloped that small ray of light, it did not completely dissipate. The strong-hearted lioness knew this, and she cautiously traversed around her opponent. Instead of taking advantage of her vulnerability in her curiosity, the vanquished foe remained in his depths of mind-numbing apathy. He would not let her see what was truly within him, because even in his trance-like state, he was struggling to conquer his own battle. That small yet brilliant beam of goodness he kept inside of him had finally been broken free by its source. The Dark King never truly knew how this piece came to reside in him, it seemed like a forgotten memory that one knows exists but cannot recall. But, it seemed that it was always there. The Dark King knew for certain that it was not his own, so he greatly treasured what bit of pure innocence he had of the Light Queen. Even though he could never be warmth and happiness, at least he could have a shred of it from her. The luminescent shard was a constant, ambient glow in his center. Beneath the inner workings of his soul, he always admired her greatly, as she was all the elegant, modest, magnificent, glorious, heavenly, exquisite beauty he yearned for. But he knew that someone like her only deserved one of her equal. The king was not her equal; he could never match the effulgent majesty that the queen portrayed. If he could ever be her counterpart, it would only be in his ability to oppose her in every way. What were these feelings that coursed through every cursed vein in his body? They had been present before, but never as strongly as this.