Antonio Stark | design
La Lettre du Petit Prince
Antonio Fowl Stark (KangSan Kim)
Dearest,
What is it, you may ask, that compels me to write. Then I may reply, O, it is the voracious
hunger of life that compels me so. For the thousandth time, the essence of life, its ineffable
greed, has taken over my flesh heart by heart. Haruki described this as walking in the depths
of the deep sea, where pressure squeezes out from the lung the desire to survive. And it is so
to me, as well, a mere mortal. Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici. By the power of truth, I, a
mortal, have conquered the universe. But even the most powerful of minds have languished in
their attempts to conquer themselves. O, my dearest, my most prized jewel, have thou ever been
encompassed in such longings?
Still, to me, it seems like only yesterday that I have first met you eye to petal. Hidden beneath the intricate tapestry of color and tenderness lay one of the most beautiful souls I have
ever found. Doth thou not become anxious in remembrance? It seemed like the whole world
was conspiring for that moment, that moment of intense watchfulness, that moment of seeing
each other’s light under the grace temperance of truth. To what depth our tendrils crossed the
boundaries! Betwixt on the fragrance of mutual liberty, we could soar into the vast oceans
of each other’s mind. Do you not remember that moment when you crossed the threshold,
through the crevice of that seemingly small heart, to find an unadulterated sea of green and an
untainted sky of blue waiting for you?
For it seems like you have forgotten.
Soaring in like a gull of the highest caliber, you came, invited, to the forbidden lair of my heart.
Even from the first, you have read the tide of my wind, followed the creases of my celestial folds.
In, you came, to the depth of my sorrow, and laid, in my purest island, a seed. So you have,
on my most treasured island, patted the ground above that little seed. Around it my watchful
palms and observant pomegranates grew out their prime. With the moisture you brought, you
dewed upon my leaves the most delicate of imaginaries. You have whispered to the ground the
secrets of the world, the wonders of the night. And twinkling as the stars themselves, I have
stretched my branches heavenwise, toward the future you promised. And amongst the nirvanic
flora, wet by the Milky Way, your seed sprouted. Tenderly, yet most profusely, you urged
on its leaves, providing every new cell with your unmistakable beauty. With the evening tide
shimmering pink around our ankles, you told it the blind the magic of the sunset, the colors of
the dawn, and the warm, intimate blushes of the night. And then, when the clouds opened its
eyes to bring forth a new day, the bud came. And on that day, you left.
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