Upon the High Wall

I stand upon the high wall, and a voice says, Jump.


I delve deep within, seeking the vast canals that channel the river of memories, cascading like an unstoppable flood into the great ocean that forms the soul. This ocean of memories should pool and mirror the destiny that awaits me, yet when I glance in, I see no reflection of myself. Death comes, inevitable in its perpetuity. Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.


I would fall into death's embrace. Had I wanted it easier, I would have thrown him a noose. He would not come and fetch me. As the vampire does not cross the threshold, death does not tread upon the high wall. I see him amongst the crowd, eyes hollow. Does he wait for me, or does his soulless glance brand another?


Lever at my hand, trapdoor at my feet, and noose to my neck.


How many others have faced this high wall? Did Nero walk these stairs and mutter, "What artist dies in me?" Was Julius pushed? Did Mithridates stab at poisoned flesh? Socrates and his hemlock--all had trod the high wall. I was a king, bequeathed by my son upon the high wall so that he might dare inherit my fortune. He would build his own high wall, or perhaps his son would. Would he dare to eat a peach? Would he grow as old as I had never known? This is no place to die, yet I stand here still. Do I take my free life as my own?


I would sail upon the high winds to Byzantium, and I wait with open arms amongst the roofs of gold. But for now, I stand upon the high wall. Remember me, remember me, but ah! Forget my fate. Remember me, but ah! Forget my fate. I do not sorrow at the loss of my life, but I lament at love lost. Fury embraces the thorny bush, blessed and stained sanguine red by sow and intrigue. Adonis' celebration amidst tears of fallen rain collected in rivers inundating its pittance of love for the red rose. Grasped its feet of love, ran to its fate, for its love.

It circles above, a falcon without a falconer, hollow eyes watch.

Does my lover call for me, to me from the steps? Do they hide away from my face, not daring to take a look at their face reflected in my hollow eyes. I had walked paths no man could ever claim, even now on this narrow path every footstep one step different from any other ever walked. I had seen trekked footpaths where creatures' unseen and unknown had run and hopped, and barked and hissed, and stared into the burning eyes of fate and felt their blood run cold.


I walked off the high wall.