Dear Captain, A Letter

Dear Captain,

I know not if you still remember ~

but ~

I remember ~ though not as clear as le miroir of gleaming silver ~ certain enough to feel the heart lurching remembrance of fond affection that persists as profound and true as if our devotion prevailed but yesterday after having endured for a hundred thousand years ~ instead of some time ago for a span no longer than the irrepressible migration of Monarchs to Mariposa ~

So it is ~ with unabashed chagrin that I am returning your correspondence ~ so verily late ~ and too ~ with shameful retrospect that our affiliation had last disintegrated into egregious declarations of petty colloquy ~ due in no small measure to my woeful immature nature ~

I do so understand ~ should you wish not to continue our devotion ~ as we left it quite infirm and frail, prior ~

but ~

should some small part of you feel as I ~ then perhaps it is possible for one such as myself ~ as irredeemable as I most certainly am ~ to attain forgiveness from one such as yourself ~ for I stand indeed humbly before your mercy ~ in this matter of most fragile intimacy ~

It behooves me then to express my vulnerabilities ~ candidly and without qualification ~

I am indeed a creature of caprice ~ subject to mercurialities that defy sense and sensibility. I do so entreat the Heavens to spare my soul so tightly woven a tapestry of whims and fantasias. But alas, I am but me ~ no better nor no worse than me myself.

Too I am oh so stubborn ~ beyond that which is excusably reasonable in one such as myself. With perturbed consternation ~ it is only now upon awakening that I have realized the loss of you ~ though you have corresponded to me ever so thoughtfully enduringly ~ whilst I have slumbered like a Princess of Faerie Olde ~ in deliberate ignorance and accidental defiance of bells of les matines.

How ashamed am I ~

That it must appear my devotion fickle and irreverent ~

How then ~ I prove the truth of me?

In the rapture of my impudence ~ I profaned that which you offered carefully. Oh but how I wish perfection were my forte ~ that I could be everything without offense and fear of failure. Though surely words come easy in this regard as any ~ that which is so arduous is not the vocable dredged from the hubris of reason and logic ~ rather, it is the sentiment that is so impetuous so tumultuous so indefinable so uncontainable so inexorable ~

The truth then is this ~

I love you ~ as surely as buttercups love dew and sunflowers love sun ~ as surely as lightning loves thunder and midsummer loves rain. And though an eternity has lapsed since last we met in renewal and wonder ~ I love you as surely as my heart beats a reveille alongside yours ~

Shall we fly ~ you and I ~ once more? With conscious insouciance ~ that once more might be for ~ ever more?

Respectfully,

Juliet

More

Lest my irresponsible nature be maligned ~

I am ~ at best ~ an actor playing the role of one. No more. No less. 

However ~ playing the role of the very best one ~ is still a real struggle ~ for virtue is no facile ideal. At worst? I ~ like so many actors ~ succumb to the senseless unquestioning stupor of the River Styx.

Lest my hopes be aspersed ~

I am so very grateful for that which flourishes in the warmth of acceptance and devotion. Should the Captain feel as I ~ then kindle anew shall we. However ~ should the Captain feel otherwise ~ then so shall it be.

(Notwithstanding that I ~ like Monarchs and Faeries ~ love ~ like champagne and myrrh ~ with irrepressible joie and inexorable faithe ~ which naysayers decry diminishes the devotion betwixt myself and all I dearly love. Needless to say ~ it matters naught to me that naysayers obloquy the reality of myself and all I dearly love ~ for their truth is their truth and mine is mine.) 

Sincerely,

Juliet

Note

'All the word's a stage' (more @ Wiki)

Letters (and books and poems, too) read aloud, i.e. Letters Live (see also YouTube)

Dead Poet's Society (more @ IMDb, more @ Wiki)