Let It Grow

by themoontonite

Unstoppable, Immovable

I tire. Do you know this? I falter and strain and suffer just the same as anypony else. I am not all sugar and speed, all pink noise static. I breathe and therefore must also pause for breath. You believe me, right? Of course you do. Of course you do! You know this better than anypony else. You sense it, even. When I need comfort you provide it. When I need rest you’re right there beside me, holding me close against the softness of your spirit and it is against you that I understand.

You described me once. We were younger and stupider then, filled with all the joyous idiocy of our youth. You, flush-drunk off Apple reserve, compared me to an unstoppable force. Without limits and direction, you said. I don't know if you meant it. I understand it now though. I am not unstoppable. You are not immovable. We stop and move and laugh and cry and carry on, a whirlwind only you and I can ever appreciate.

Is that selfish? The belief that only I appreciate us, that only you appreciate us? Perhaps it is. To tell the truth I do not care. I want your selfish thoughts, your bitter feelings that twist in your gut late at night when it feels that all the stars have gone away. We can bare the worst parts of ourselves and it is through this that we can bear them, live through them, and indeed prosper through it all!

Prosper for as long as we are able to, at least. It tugs at my heart some days; the thought that you will be without me in some far future. Who, then, will make you laugh, lover mine? And who will make my heart sing? Where will all the light go when we’re gone? I know you can’t tell me. Even if you knew I wouldn’t want to hear it. This unknowing, this cluelessness, is the beauty of love.

I think you’d agree.

---

How? In any world, in any span of time, how did we swim up the same river? What am I supposed to make of you, when you spend hours by my side without complaint, without flagging at all. What am I supposed to do with myself in the hours before your return? I’ve tried to study, to understand the nature of the feelings that sit balled up tight in my unruly chest, but they refuse to unfurl without you around. That would be fine then if I could study in your presence. If you didn’t steal away every moment — if I could call giving my time willingly theft at all. Every single breath the world gives me I’d give to you if you’d let me.

I know you not at all but still well enough to know you’d deny me. You’d deny my limitless breath, you’d deny the stretch of my wings, you’d deny the flute of my horn. You accept, however, the wrap of my wings around you. This is good, I think to myself, as I cling tight to the promise of another moment with you here in my life. This is more than good. This is the limit of language, the failing of the words we’ve been given to describe the shape of a thing that is outside of us.

I once tried to understand you and failed. Now I seek to understand us, the passage of love between two disparate bodies, and I think I see the face of god in the tresses of your mane. It seems to me that the whole of the universe, the limitless expanse of the potential of our lives rests in the curls that frame your smiling face. As you press against my side with exuberance I’m beset by the reality of love and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it! I want to stand up, to fling my wings out and flail my hooves to the ceiling and scream all my love out until I’m spent.

That, however, would mean peeling our bodies apart. I liken it to the splitting of an atom, to cleaving the very fabric of ourselves in twain, for to part from you is to suffer beyond what my mortal body allows. I bear it still, for the good of us both, but it is only for the promise of a return to our bound state that I bear it at all. I would bear a thousand days cleft from you for one kiss, one sweet sugar caress of tender affection, but lucky mare am I that you seem to be in ample supply. Indeed, it’s hard to escape your attention without the pepper of you against me.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Comments

[The Red Parade]

This was almost like reading Shakespeare if Shakespeare was cool and wrote fanfiction. Fantastic work and your prose is as precise and exact as it always is! It was an honor prereading this!

[Starlight Nova]

Is there going to be a sequel?

[Brony of the Revolution]

[themoontonite]

10586120
i may eventually write a sort of successor, yeah. i wanted to do all the rest of the possible mane six ships but thats a very distant maybe right now :)

[TheLegendaryBillCipher]

Ah! I'm so glad you were able to finish this - I loved this story from the contest! Your writing is very poetic, your prose is as sensory as ever and each section reflects so well with the pony its about. Nice job.

[SigmasonicX]

Very sweet and beautiful poetry—and that's what this is. Though I did have the issue that it was difficult to read the prose in some of the respective characters' voices, since they used words and phrasings the characters wouldn't. Particularly Rainbow and Pinkie. You could say this is what they'd say if they were more poetic, I suppose.

[RainbowInfinityReadings]

Greetings. Your reading has been completed and can be found here. I hope you enjoy!

[Ice Star]

I’m 100% reminded of sonnets reading these. The theme and word choice is too perfect to really classify these meditations as anything else.

[Hyper Star]

Prosper for as long as we are able to, at least. It tugs at my heart some days; the thought that you will be without me in some far future. Who, then, will make you laugh, lover mine? And who will make my heart sing? Where will all the light go when we’re gone? I know you can’t tell me. Even if you knew I wouldn’t want to hear it. This unknowing, this cluelessness, is the beauty of love.

NOPE!

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE!

WAS NOT PREPARED! FEELS HAVE BEEN HIT VERY HARD! MUST DIE.

If the TARDIS existed I would steal it, travel back in time and watch Shakespeare hopelessly try to write something like this. Have an upvote.