Love letter # 339

It is arresting – humbling – to catch yourself hoping when all rational expectation is long dead. In spite of all my previous declarations and determinations, a stubborn candle burned. Little more than a slurry of wax smouldering in a dim corner of fantasy. Yet still alight.

For desire pays no heed to evidence.

So what is it I desire so madly? Surely not just you – for you are merely a man – a wreck like me. Tangled up and tarnished.

No – that tiny fire burned for something I wanted more than the veils of sanity or respectability. More than family. Than being right. Than you.


Not just the idea but the experience of being a part of something bigger than the self.

And its wonderful corollary – the end of loneliness.





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