Am I too Lost to be Saved?

Through the haze of my open mind I looked unblinkingly through the window which was amazingly a view to the sea. In the distance, soft gray, black and white clouds, which merely seemed to pass through the beautiful vista. Pulling my gaze closer I could see her. Raven haired and wearing a long blue flowing gown, pleats in the skirt and an open back on it. Slender but not thin, her hair falling in waves down her back and blowing slightly. Delicately I watched her shiver in what was a near arctic wind, wondering where her cloak had been set. As I watched her, leafs of parchment fell from her hand and scattered in the gusty wind. She stood on my favorite sandbar, the tide churning around her feet.

I brushed my own hair out of my face and continued to watch her. There were small pieces of beach grass under her dress, this I knew from having walked the same path she was now treading. The moon hung low in the sky and the stars seemed as if they were pinned on. I narrowed my gaze trying to read the words on the paper she had just dropped. "Am I too lost to be saved?" The words jumped at me in a vibrant calligraphy. I ached for her, wondering the same thing often in my own life. I saw her as I would watch anything beautiful and mourned her as the scene played out before my eyes. Her body began to turn into a form of mist, dissipating within moments until nothing was left but the bits of paper scattered along the beach. 

Muttering to myself, I arose and walked out onto the back porch, bare footed and in nothing but a thin black silk robe, my hair unbound and messy. As I got close to each piece of paper they would disappear into thin air. There was not a wisp of ink left. When I reached the last piece, I expected it to vanish as well as the others. When I placed my hand upon it, I felt the crinkly texture beneath my fingertips. It was the piece that had said, "Am I too lost to be saved?" At the bottom scrawled in a blood red color was the most painful thing I've ever read. There was nothing but a simple word that read, "Yes." I knew then that she had disappeared into the sea never to be seen again. She had drowned herself in the sea upon carving that final word into the parchment. I knelt, the wind whipping angrily through my hair, and frowned as I saw the drops of red amongst the pale white of the sand. I found a quill, but no inkpot could be located. I knew then she had used her own blood.

The small self reflection that came out of the small trip I took traveling on another plane was more than I could bear. I pulled back into myself and awoke slowly and carefully. I breathed deeply bringing myself completely back and then with a steady hand pulled my arm up to look at myself and the bit of parchment still attached to my hand. It was blood soaked and I noticed the blood was mine.

Self Reflection is what defines me. If I am too lost to be saved, then let it be.