Back to where it all began

Back to where it all began...

It is odd. Not to say that it is most peculiar. I can recall a lot. And of course I can remember one of my first love. She was blond, almost blond. And her hair was like golden beams to me. Golden beams from the sun. As her lips were strawberries. Her body stole the shapes of just any marble statue. Stole everything that was poetry. She was by the way more than poetry. Her feet kissed the sand where I was to die. And maybe it is because I did trust her to the very end I had to die. And I died because of love.

I don´t know if you are familiar with that famous city of the Roman empire. Campinia was the name of the city, it was close to the central places. Which I did not bother too much about. I was pleased living in this remote city. Why shouldn´t I? I lived there. I grew up there. And in my dreams at nights I can go back, through time and space. But perhaps I nowadays don´t recall my life´s misery because of my love for her. I think I can remember it all because of revenge...I have to make it even with her. Do I jump ahead too fast in my story? But how then can I go back to how it all began? Began because of my childish dreams. I wanted to live on people´s lips. It is like I had some kind of artist within me. But I was not great in poetry or even making up stories. This is not to say that I was stupid, but I was severly innocent. Maybe my love for my family and my relatives made me not seeing things coming the way they did.

I was born at Via Messilinia. It was an ordinary street, although our city was special. I guess I must have been a happy boy. I had one sister and two younger brothers. My dad was a salesman and he rushed to meet the ships at the port, those ships coming from afar. He made some good money I presume, but I thought not much upon money or material things. My mum loved me dearly. And we had a housekeeper and a slave who taught me how to read and write. Our house was not big, but it was enough.

Still I had a longing for something else. At first I could not mention what it was. But on the streets of Campinia I heard a lot about fame. How to make yourself a name that had to live on people´s mouths for generations. An Empire needs its sons, as it needs water and meat and fruit and – what else? Like love and hate are names for poets, I can still presume this. As we were a people born out of myth. This is it. I had to live my myth. But how, where and when?

I heard of stories and tales. As I grew older I heard of love. I heard of the Vestals and the muses and godesses. I heard and I swallowed everything like in one big cup. I had a hard time sorting out everything. It was like I became one with myth. And I grew up to become a young man. I think I must have been fourteen when I first saw her.

As I said earlier. It is like my life´s lesson was to meet her. Some call it destiny. Some call it karma. Be it as it may, but I had to meet her. As soon as I saw her at the agora I felt this shiver. And I could recall something else in this emotion. I felt like time and space bowed head in front of me. It was like she, Margina Appina Luna had to come across my way. I knew from that instant that it was Nostagia that had hit me. I knew there and then that I had met her before. But where? Anyhow. Nostagia was in my fantasy from now on. Just because of destiny´s toll on my childish brain. My childish way to have lived life up to this moment.

It is sad to say, but I dared not go up to her, but rushed home again. I did not know what to do. But I started to make up dreams about her. She was everywhere. In flowers. In the winds. In the streets. In the trees. In heaven and – well, not in hell...I could not think anything bad about her. I knew of course that my longing for her was as insane as an orange was to meet an apple. Yet. And still. I had to see her face again. If just her face,nothing else. Mad isn´t it? Do we feel nowadays that one single marble face is enough? Don´t we laugh at innocence? We laugh at marble skins. We laugh at rosebud lips. We laugh at old poetry, don´t we? We think we have to go all way today. But I had nothing of those thoughts in my brain. Just to see her was enough. But then came the blow.

My dad died suddenly. Mum had a hard time getting over it. Should I run the business now? But then my uncle just decided he should take over dad´s affairs. We could do nothing. I was so sad, like sorrow itself blew my mind to pieces. I forgot my sister. I forgot about my brothers. I could think of nothing. How could I help my family from now on? Only one thing could make me come over my sorrow. Luna!

We had to sell the house. One of my brother went to sea as a sailor, although that young he was. Had to begin from the bottom. My other brother co-worked with my uncle from then on. And my mum and my sister went to live with my aunt. Myself? Just you wait and see!

Mum got a note one day. It was before we sold the house. The note was signed with the name – guess who? Margina Appina Luna. That was her name. She needed someone to help her, god knows in what matters. I could not read all the lines, because I was too nervous for that. The message came in bits and pieces, because I was so speeded in my thoughts. But I sent a note as a reply. Yes, I was to come and see her...A couple of days later…

Gosh, she was an aristocratic lady. She was married to a wealthy man. She had connection to everyone. Why me? Why did she want to meet me? I was soon to be fifteen. You think I should know more. But my dad´s plan was that I was to run his business. He had already taught me a lot about it. I had helped him now and then. Anyhow. Now it was all gone. And my uncle did not want my help. I don´t know why. He hated me I suppose. Hate, just because I looked like my dad. I took after him in many ways, except for my childish brain. I did not think too much about my body. But I was to learn about it. I went to see her, my Luna.

We laid down at the table at our first meeting. Her houshold was there. All her servants. We drank some wine. I came to stay in her home. And I did not excactly figure out at first for what reason. I knew she was married. To just look at her would have been enough with me. She, yes she, she needed something more.

One night as we laid there at the table. We drank some wine. She told me in a whispering way that I was a virgin. I laughed. I thought that was an important word for fine girls. I could not be a such, or could I? Suddenly…

She reached across the table and grasped my hand. I looked at my hand, not knowing what to do next. She explained that she should teach me how to...and then...she lead me to her bedroom. It was big. There was a statue by the bed. And oriental carpets on the floor. A big bed, dressed in something that I think was silk.

I think she taught me about erotic love. But as I was sick in my brain of this fever I hardly knew where she was leading me… It was so overwhelming to me. A dame like her. And me – how common was I not beside her?

One day her husband came by. I tried to hide. But he grabbed me. Next thing I knew was that even he wanted to make love with me. I was mixed up in this triangle form of love. It was like heaven. When I knew it was like that I had to understand, as stories told us, that love is a fever and a disease. But it is also a battle, just like at war. Who is going to win? On this field the winner takes it all. That was a song inside my brain. With a bottle of wine, and next…

Such a banal story. Sad a dumb story. You wanted it to be more awsome, didn´t you? And I thought so too. Days and nights in that bed. Could she never stop her longing for more? But one day…

In this life, where I am living now, in a small town of Smaland I try to figure things out. Why did I come to live a life where I can recall past lifes? For what reason? These stories come to me through time and space. As I said, it is like time is bowing its head in front of me, granting me with journeys inside of my mind. Journeys and stories that comes through my meditation. I travel to other realms, and there they come, mixed with my knowledge of today.

Anyhow. What I can recall today is how this story of love ended. I was a handsome boy. And Luna and her husband had something in store for me. I was their bet. I was to become their Gladiator. Through the dim curtain of wine and sex my lovely Luna told me that I had to be trained to fight a man much older than me. I must have been stupied, cause I believed in her story. She said that they had paid the other Gladiator not to kill me. So. Who was to be killed did I think? You could of course say it was the wine who made me think the way I did. I think of course it was due to my goodlooking body. People liked to look at it. And it was to become a victim on that arena. The place of my death. My silly death. I guess lots of betting was to be of an interest, like a fun game. Who would win the bet and who wouldn´t? And my dream of becoming a famous name – well? How about it? She, my Luna, sort of planted stories in my silly brain. How it would all come to pass. I was to become a famous young man as a Gladiator. I belived I would. Could I – no I could not split one thought from the other as soon I was in the presence of Luna. I was bewitched...I think...I could not think rational. I could not think at all. Today as I recall all this I have come to understand that Luna and her husband had to get rid of me. Simply because the love they had for me was forbidden by the law. As I was a free man it was forbidden to have that sort of sex with me. With slaves it would have been okey. It did not matter. And now my one brother was searching for me. That is why I was kept hidden in that house, because this love was a crime. And think about it? If they had found out that the highborn dame was like that. Mad about sex with young boys. A shame as I see it today. But back then…

Now. As comes round goes round. Back to where it all started. I have met my Luna in lifetimes after this Roman time. I have met her in many different forms and shapes. She has always fooled me into whatever she might have in her mind. It is not always because of sex. But she can fool me over and over, like it all goes back to square number one. Like my karma is to meet her again and again...Back all over again. Reborn and retell it all again. Because I still have an innocent mind that trust people. When shall I break the chain off? By this story? Hey, do you read this Luna?

And that day I went to the Circus. I was dressed in a kind of armour. I had a huge hangover. I was afraid, but saw no escape. I trusted my dame had paid the other Gladiator. Of course she paid him. She paid him to kill me. Just like that. Head off. Chop chop chop. No more wise guy. No more of life. At a glimpse on that sand, at the circus I saw the Gladiator coming at me. I was terrified. I wanted to run away, but something stopped me. I was so dependent on her. She had become my everything. I stayed there,because of love. She had me to stay put. And she wanted me dead from now on. I looked up at the audience, a fast and quick glance. I saw her through my tears. She had a smile on her face. White marble face. The face I had loved. And bang smash bang. I felt my skull split. I felt blood dripping. I saw the sun and its beam. A shadowy scene rushed through me. As I recall this, the memories coming through my meditation skills. Just my mind goes up...and my mind is back where it started off. Back to square number one. My fear of love has brought me nowhere in this life. Perhaps I begin to understand why. Love. What is love if it is such a disease? As the Romans said. It is a disease. And much forbidden. It can kill you…

As I write this I can see my blood dripping. I can see the sand beneath my feet. And I recall my lust for a face made into statues. Just the face. It would have been enough. And today I write poem after poem because of my love for her. My eternal Luna. I am dependent on her, still after all these ages. And I always come back to her. Why? Cause the idiomatic senses in me is caught up in words she planted in me through symbols. And idiom can catch me into her net again and again….