Farewell my Lady Lilith.
Was it just a dream them? Was it just an illusion in the quiet small hours of the morning? Did I really touch the soul of some distant lady by the shores of the Pacific Ocean far away? Did she really come to me like a shadow on the edge of reality and move my consciousness with her dark passions; inspire my senses with the searing light of her presence and leave me breathless half a globe away? Was she really there? Was there truly a spirit that I adored on the end of this fragile, tenuous tendril of electronic tangibility? Did I really love or was that just a dream and that within a dream of dreams.
My Lady Lilith is gone. I stare at the implacable cold light of a computer screen and see only a void where once there was joy and illumination. She is gone and I scarce know why. In some vaguely remembered past she came to me like that shadow of the night she most considered the true meaning of her troubled spirit, took solid substance in my mind and filled my thoughts with exaltation; a gratification that such a being as she existed and graced the world with her presence.
I remember the excitement of discovery; the realisation that somewhere, in a land I had never seen, there was this person who could move me with the beauty of their actuality. I remember how that distant presence uplifted me and filled me with gratitude that this age of miracles could make such contact possible; how it could reduce the vastness of geographical separation to the loving touches of a fingertip upon a keyboard. There was this person there. I might never touch the warmth of their face with the palm of my hand; never gaze in wonder into the eyes that receded back into the glory of their imagination or ever scent the perfume in their hair. Yet they were there and if all the pictures in my mind of them were but constructed images that person nevertheless had substance and reality for I saw that which was most beautiful about them; the inner vision of their quintessence that they had in such generosity bequeathed me.
And now that quintessence is gone. Like a shadow it came and like a shadow it has left me and the great space it once filled is now just a chasm in the ether; remorseless in its deafening silence. For two days I have stared into that silence and implored it to speak to me; begged it to brush away my tears with a glimmer of sound beyond its cavernous solitude and bring some flicker of light to my desolation. Yet the silence remains and mocks my loneliness with its obdurate persistence.
I do not know why my lady Lilith is gone. She left some parting message as enigmatic as ever she was herself. There was some hint of other things to do; some sense that it was time to move on to fields anew. There was perhaps that awful expression that she must turn her attention to the “real” world. The “real” world! How I hate that phrase! As if there was ever such a thing! I learned long ago that there is no reality but that which we construct about ourselves through the postulation and creativity of our minds. If you place ten people in a room you have in essence ten different realities and who is to say that one is more real than another’s? This was a “real” world. On the end of that line from California to here there was a heart and a being who existed.
And now that heart breaks and that being cries in grief for she has gone. The void echoes with my laments; my unanswered questions come back to haunt me. Perhaps I will never now have the chance to tell her that I loved her truly; that there was a part of me that belonged to her; a part of me that was my gift to her yet remains unopened in the frigidity of the silence. My lady Lilith is gone and my world seems a darker, colder place in the absence that remains.