Love letter # 8

And so here we are, as I always knew we would be. Miles apart; days drifting into weeks and longer, treasures gathering dust. Dusk becoming midnight.

I guess I thought I’d get used to it. I never did. The world kept reminding me. Every time I thought the fever had dulled, or the vivid light paled – just as I was about exhale the last vaporous wisps – I realised.

I understand that all things pass, that there is no owning, and that wishing – for all its intense and consuming drama – has no effect whatsoever. I am just a man at his desk, waiting in the softening blur of evening for some unforseen angel to deliver him his elsewhere girl.

I never met anyone like you – maybe you never met anyone like me. I hope so. But I would still burn the whole world if the only thing left was you and me.

Yet even though there are still nights – this one included – when I beg whatever gods there are to let me sleep, I have enough sense to insist that, come morning, they leave me enough blood for love.

For to love you is to walk through the day in grace and humility – to remember that we are all disrupted music – to see how the light illuminates every single thing. Not a soul shall be cut off from love. For this incredible gift I thank you.

I cannot say where this river will end; other than in some vast welcoming sea; but I know that sooner or later every drop of me will rise up to the sky, where perhaps I will be closer to you. For even if I was an angel you would be my special one.