And in surrender, ecstasy.

She can see – and so can he. There is no chance for denial now. Her heart is breaking at the sight of it. As though he has waited for her to yield to her love.

From his shattered place on the ground he has now been raised by her tender attentions. Smiling out of his haze as her delicate but direct hands go about their routine of care. As she allows her long black hair to fall over him.

Now he is a child – looking up in awe at the floating vision of grace before him. In his weary, aching repose she is the angel come to visit him. And the sweetness has him weeping.

Then she washes his tears with her own – and together they make a sea of euphoria, despair and acceptance.

She is kneeling at the altar of his finality, holding his bony, shivering hands in hers. With a strength that barely registers, he clings onto her. Channelling adoration through his arthritic fingers.

For a minute or two the beauty of it is so intense – like an overdose – that neither can breathe; and they are suspended in the exquisite space where everything is nothing and all is forgiven.

She lays her head upon his knees and he runs his fingers through her hair. Now he loves her utterly. Feels like he could melt away.

This is how she comes to understand the aspect of love that we might best call divine. By allowing him to love her without fear or temperance.

In her surrender, his also.

And in surrender, ecstasy.

Healing.

Returning.

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Love letter # 331

There are a whole bunch of things that I wish weren’t true – like the fact that I can’t keep my eyes off you. Or my dreams from wandering where they shouldn’t. To the edges of your treasure. To the soft electric shimmer of your sway. The calm yet yearning pools that live within your gaze. For when he’s standing next to you and I have to look away, only hopes remain.

Yet what am I hoping for? The fall? The crossing of lines best left unbroken?

Sometimes what we wish for is the worst possible outcome. But still I dream. Still I shiver in the fog of your loveliness. Crazily, irresponsibly drawn to you. So wanting to touch you. Believing that maybe you do too.

So say it isn’t so.

Or …

Because then at least I will have my breath back.

Love letter # 317

To you – finally – I can speak. Show. Become. And all the lies – so many fucking lies – they are no longer required. Like the frontier undefended. Ramparts abandoned. For in you, all the reason I ever needed to destroy the masks. Because you alone have seen me without the need for the shallow acclamation of pretty. Or the lurid glitter of victory. As I see you. Even in the thrall of darkness I can find you with this compass – as you shall come to me. For tonight every single star shall be ours to behold.

Love letter # 909

Take me to the end, my love – to the place where beauty is everything – where the cell called Oneness melts into the sea of the Twoness. For when I know you, I know me. And our love is the mirror by which we come into being. Because there is a shadow and there is a light – meaningless without one other. So lead me to the start, my love – where tears like pearls are the birth of a river. The one that flows through us all.

Love letter # 228

Wasn’t it true – didn’t we know from day one? You and me – we had that language. The one that’s written in blood and stars. There were no silly vanities with us. We had no need for the distracting glare. In the world we made with our love there was only love. It seems so wild to say it now – to know it still – but we came here to love. Only to love. Because by that sacred agency we could author a path out of darkness. We could be the light that shines.

And now, when that look that only we seem to know passes through the clutter between us, we know that we have shelter. Quiet. The beautiful nothing. Our little heaven.

I love you, my angel. Never think otherwise.