Fairy-tale Abyss

“At every moment of our lives, we all have one foot in a fairy tale and the other in the abyss.”

― Paulo Coelho

He was a tall, skinny lad, long-limbed. His mouth was long too: long and mobile with quirky corners, giving a naturally humorous cast to his face. Big, generous ears. Clear eyes. Long, slim, square-knuckled fingers.

He posed with his Japanese sword, one hand clasping the black handle, long hair swept back behind his shoulder, mouth held straight and serious, eyes fixed. The ideal of the mystic warrior. (He was Aikido-trained.)

'I know you now,' I said. 'You are my animus.' 

'The age difference doesn't matter,' he told me. 'Our minds have no age. We just are.'
 

We existed for each other in a space of pure being, a vacuum, a sanctuary, a circle outside of time. But we cannot live only as minds. The fairy-tale was the abyss. It was a black hole – gradually, inevitably pulling the outside world in. Bit by bit it became filled with details of our lives, until the pure space was no more. Under the clutter of fact and time, our fine connecting thread grew imperceptible even to ourselves. 

We were left with a question: What is real?

lolling on bright grass

he beams at the camera –
unknown to me then

Written for dVerse Haibun Monday #7