Endless

At the reawakening of dawn, my clerical duties were again renewed.  Under the subtle brightness of the sun, creeping steadily out of a lengthy sleep behind its dark grave, arises this bemused creature. Mysterious in disposition and reflective of strongly melancholic features, cautiously daring to originate from the cheerful grass, spread across the large meadow clearing.   The call of the earth pulses cerimoniously, as if to synchronize with the rhythm of my panting breath, as if my being was simply a replay of prior moments.  My existence being nothing more than a forogotten memory.  My every step weighs itself carefully, listening to the whistling wind as it casually caresses my flawless skin, rushing through my being, as if I were simply another of its same kind.  The sun begins to shine ever more brightly, reflecting across the shining features of my young face.
Dawn has now established itself, blazen across the sky as the world begins to come alive.  Continuing my walk along the invisible path, the familiar cottage soon comes into view.  The sight of its crumbling stone walls, and the unkept garden replenish the pangs I feel every time I see their sorry state.  Feeling, once again, the wish that it was in my own abilities to improve their condition... recognizing again that it is beyond me to fulfill this wish.  Just moments later, I have gone beyond the sight of the tarnished home, beholding again, a sight I wish unconditionally to resolve.  A woman.  One off extreme beauty, simplistic with her wide eyes and dark cascades of hair, a soft round nose and the rosiest of complexion.  Tears stream down her smooth face, her body trembling under irrestrainable sobs.  Without her notice I enter the room, placing myself on the cool stone floor, across from her slumped form. Beholding the look of torment and regret in her midnight blue eyes as I search myself for any means to comfort her, but understanding, as I always must, that there is nothing I can do to transform her situation. 
Forcing myself to remain in this solitary position across from her, unheard and unseen, I feel my own desire tug at my heart.  Begging to enter the same relief she has found solace within.  Tugging at my limited ability, waiting for my own sobs to rack at my own tarnished heart.  But no tears come, and no tears ever will.  As my sympathy turns to that of jealousy, aching for the simple ability to escape myself as she has, my body shakes in a like manner to hers.  A similar trembling erupts inside of me, only free from any physical emitions her feelings are able to dispose of, enviously different from my own.  I ache to wrap my arms around her thin body, though larger than my own, and look up into the face so like mine.  To ask and seek openly where this connection was built, and why we are so condemned to remain in this painful state of repetition. 
Dusk, as it does at the fall of every day, falls across the sky, and I rise from my worn seat, returning out in the exact manner by which I came.  Passing again, I feel that familiar desire to comfort this sorrowful woman, to replace the crumbled stones on the house's outer face, to cleanse the garden of the weeds that plague its soil, and to known more than this dreadful daily routine.  As I retrace my steps, walking once again down the same, invisible path, I openly contemplate.  As I so often do, I realize the ease by which I could persue a unique routine only, to be replaced by the loving force that draws me to this woman's pained heart.  Perhaps, I think, her life goes beyond the pages which I see.  Perhaps her sadness is merely the result of the unconcious presence I bestow.  Perhaps, were I to abandon this daily procedure I have come to follow so preciseley, would we both find ourselves free?
So return I will, to my own dark grave beneath the sky, within the same meadow through which I appear every day.  I'll sleep, though restlessly, and when dawn, once again arises I will rise up to welcome the earth in its glory.  I will persue a new routine, though painful it will seem, to abandon the adoration in my heart.  And when, peradventure I deem necessary to revisit the memory I've bestowed unto every day of this existence, I will find the moment to be exactly the same.  The same pain caused, perhaps, by my very presence, and the overwhelming desires that I could never fulfill.  My existence will remain a transluscent window into nothingness.  Always in dreadful continuance, but never learning to fulfil whatever is left to be desired.