Terrence Malick

To The Wonder by Terrence Malick 

He combines music and image in such a way that my senses tremble every single time I watch one of his films. Slow and captivating, an intricate narrative into what happens inside of the soul. To The Wonder captures well my present self. Here and there. Two women in one. One that lets herself be loved by the love that loves her. I also am another woman who loves your blue eyes and the sense of being one. 

Intertwined somewhere in there, a sense of found and lost faiths. Attentive eyes into the miracle and deep state of being alive and all its wonders and miseries. 

I no longer wait for. I exist in the present tense. A less intense soul, pervaded by a more subtle taste of colors and wonder. You are my shadow, still. The presence I now know. The same way Terrence portrays the broken souls and the yearning to belong in To The Wonder. Is life really a miracle? A dream? The questions remain: why have I met you? Why did I seek you in the first place? And why have I saught you for so long? 

Your name comes back. It haunts me in the mundane affairs my life has turned into. But has it ever been any different? Maybe before I just did not know what to call you, you had no name. Now I remember way too well what it is like to love with desperation. To feel someone under your own skin, another person ingrained in me. To live as if we were the same flesh and blood. I also know what it is like to be left with a fingerprint in the soul, a thorn of sorts, which forces me to handle the constant pain. But also reminds me that you exist. 

I wonder, too. Sluggishly, the days unfold. In their light and dark hues, I drown in the air as if I could masticate my feelings for you. I try and fail. What have you done? I dare you to try and eliminate our love as if it could be easily swallowed and digested by the past. I dare you, how can you think that by leaving, you would end us. Leaving me before, leaving me now. 

How can I describe, in a fresh way, what it feels like to be left behind? How can I take a step towards a new heart and a new skin? Why can't the sun just burn the old one and revere the bright future ahead? 

I bite my fingers. I doodle in my several pieces of paper and notebooks. A tear escapes my eye as if it could scream at you the loudest love that ever was, and yet it can't. It is not loud enough. You left home. 

I dream with you, my eyes open. You follow me in bed, I risk my fragile sanity. I hear your voice and your command. The instant that I was yours, I was complete. Being one with you. It was a light that I have never seen before. The memory of us that follows me. The deepest scar. 

The strings that attach me to life are slowly shredding. You and you alone with your non-love for me. How can I love someone who tears the ropes of my life apart? Reason fails me. The vulgar dichotomy of reason and heart, or maybe there is more to it than meets the eye and this existence.

Somewhere inside of me, I knew, and I know. I belong to you. Perhaps not here and now, in this particular fragment of reality. But elsewhere somewhere, where reason does not exist, we are. And all there is reciprocal love and the ongoing magical sensation of being one.

I belong to you with the strength of Titans and the beauty of the most delicate love there is. You are the eerie day after the storm where everything is calm and bright, and silence prevails. A day in which the wind blows so subtly that the tree leaves dance, saturated by a golden light.

Whatever is left of me, it is still yours, even if you don't want it. You can leave me, but you can't escape from my love. To The Wonder.