The Sin of Seneca

Attached was an mp3 file from Nim—a song he was sharing with her before its release. She hit play and closed her eyes.

The next morning, as Mei prepared for her shift, an email pinged.

Attached was an mp3 file from Nim—a song he was sharing with her before its release. She hit play and closed her eyes.

The beat began slow, deliberate. Then Nim’s voice eased in, like a whisper turning into a hymn. The song was called “Pilgrimage to the Unknown.”

It’s a pilgrimage to the unknown, Who would ever know The agony, The tragedy. It’s a way out of here. My world shatters when I close my eyes And see you. I’m like an atom, A divine angel, Waking before dawn. You are my travels To a distant world. My severe pains With you turn to harmonies. May I ever be…

Chorus: You are the pilgrimage To the unknown, My own, My moon. You are my blind eyes Learning to see, My mouth tasting A sea of stars. You are the pilgrimage, My very own. It’s yet a pilgrimage…

Those who lie to us Say life should be lived this way, But it isn’t. Life was never meant to be this. Distances… memories… It’s a pilgrimage. Our way out of here, Our way back. Would we ever dare?