Heuristic

How can a thing of beauty perish before my eyes, leaving me nothing to look at but myself?  No one to serve, yet still insistent on serving. How can I turn the eye inward, the compliment to include me? For as long as she was here, it was easy. Avoidance implied. Preferred. The agenda was predefined. Easy to follow. Now, the absence of order stares me down. I thought if I walked for miles, at the end of the journey I might find it.  That key which was never within my reach.

I am a little girl. I walk down a long corridor. At the end of it, stands a tall iron container, rusted over. It has a door, which I open. I find myself  inside as I am now. The little girl takes the older woman by the hand and together, they walk down the corridor. They are fused. One protects the other. It is all new to them. All new to me.

I can no longer observe. No longer search for another master. There is not only one key. I know now that there are many. But not all the doors need them. I take it slowly. I do not run because there are two of us to think of.  We must keep pace with each other. Learn how to leave in order to return as one.