She looked back and was struck once again by what seems a predictive nature to her feelings.  She was racing for a cliff and her radar was screaming.  Even as she painted a beautiful picture of this idyllic life she wished for herself, that part of her much older and wiser self was making assessment and whispering in her ear to slow down, back off.  She wasn’t sure who was there for whom in their mad, obsessive race to reach some karmic finish line. 


In her endings she had come to know there is always learning for her.  She hoped he would see it the same as she feared his fate in this to be so much harsher than her’s, unless he chose to again pierce her with the knife of his pain.  He should know he stole an innocence that had been guarded by those before him.   He breached the walls of her sanctuary and made her feel more than hurt.  He caused her to feel afraid and vulnerable.  She would that he see she only acted to protect herself from a man she did not know . . . a man without empathy or common caring. 


Never did she see until too late the full ramifications of this wild and terrible ride they took.  Did she not warn him?  In how many ways could she have cautioned him against the passion, the intensity?  Still he held he was the man that could stem that tide.  He said he was him, the man that has never been and probably will never be.  She had scorched the soul of one man past and he hers.  She never wished to carry that burden and pain again.


He ended with cruelty beyond the need to simply hurt another.  She made no response.  As much as his knife did cut her, such were as scratches beside the wounds that others had left in her.  So he pushed harder.  He threatened the only thing of true importance to her and that is her peace.  He left behind the caring, gentle personae for that of an aggressor . . . a hard, unreachable man.  Truly what could he have expected her to do?  She did finally strike back, one terrible blow so much more impactful than had ever been her intent.


She accepted her karmic debt and would survive grieving the death of what felt so very much like true love should.  It was over in the blink of an eye, but each moment of ecstasy remained suspended in eternity.  She would that be the quiet ending.  That just isn’t meant to be.  She felt Fate pushing her, guiding her.  She took each step laid out before her only too late seeing the test she was to be for him sent to teach and to learn.  He the man so sure of his balance as to preach to others the way to enlightenment, to feel a godhead in his pursuits.  He is not the one in control and destiny will humble him until he has truly learned that difficult, life-changing lesson.


There is what she knows and he doesn’t.  There is the storm coming that he cannot yet see.  It was the action taken to protect what is hers by the labor she does in both in the physical and spiritual worlds that seeded the clouds for the torrent to soon rain down.  She waited in the hope he would stop, but he only escalated.  She thought she had a peaceful solution that countered the club he held out to bludgeon her with, but her own common sense had been clouded by the blinding light they cast.  She did not think it though from a purely analytical perception.  Should she have only seen the final ending and all it would touch, she’d have taken the beating he wished to give her.  She’d swear to that.


Now, it so obviously is in destiny’s hands.  There is nothing she can do to influence it one way or the other.  It is what was always going to be.  She had little to do with writing his script or allocating the size of the karmic debt he has yet to pay in this reality.  She was so very sorry to be a tool of destiny in his life.  She didn’t believe him a bad man, just an immature one still full of spite and anger.  He knew what was necessary to meet them and accept them and tame them.  He spoke the words, but did he feel the meaning?  Could he be the living proof of his pontifications?


She prayed he could and would.  She had never seen herself as fragile until he set foot in her domain.  She was just the hand of the sister muses working at the behest of those powers that mold us.  Would he try, truly try to remember her softly, gently when next his hate blazes within him towards her.  It would, but he should know it was his actions that put things on a level she would have never ventured to. 


She would not think of him again, but she would always remember him.  Everything is exactly as it should be and in its time.  She must remember that through the heartbreak ahead of her.