Destiny

Two years ago. But it might have been two hundred. Or two thousand. Or two days in the future.
She is my destiny.

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

They first meet two thousand years ago

A raw sun burns a hole through an Egyptian blue sky.  She dances for him in a palace of fire . Her magnificent body is slick with oil and clad in a costume of silk and veils.  There are twenty other women chosen for their perfection and their beauty but he sees only her. She wordlessly becomes his beneath a velvet sky studded with stars.

In Byzantium they are lovers. Rich, proud and aloof aristocrats, they undress each other in the candlelight and lie upon jewelled pillows beneath a ceiling of pure gold.  He ties her wrists and ankles.

In Venice they pass each other at a masked ball.  They brush hands but are unaware of each other’s presence.

He wears her brightly coloured favour, perfumed with her love, at a joust. His opponent’s lance spills his crimson blood over it, staining it…

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