Love letter # 395

In the face of everything I do not and cannot know, I know what it is I want – and though I understand that there are no guarantees, I would still prefer it. It is a simple thing; perhaps naïve and primitive, yet still it feels profound.

So I wonder … will you reach out across the mystery of the great in-between and risk the possibility of heartbreak to walk awhile beside me? Will you sing this song with me? Can we dance in time? Is there a way that you can set aside your fears – as I will let go of mine? Are you ready to abandon the arrogance of knowing for the adventure of finding?

All this I would gladly. If only to hold you.

For there is nothing of which I am certain – no kingdom I would rather, no riches I would gather in your stead. My status, the opinions of others and the hubris of higher purpose – these I shall set as nought. Because in the almost impossible vastness of everything there is nothing I would rather than to love you. Even if for the flicker of a flame.

It may burn to ground in the end, yet by the warmth of that inferno we shall have shone – and with the memory of such a fire we can forever rest in peace. Like distant stars. Lonesome lights beaming out across the blackness.

The only question is: will you?

Love letter # 462

I had a dream – the one of you that didn’t quite turn out. It was made from the sadness in your eyes and from the detailed loveliness of your bony fingers. Carved from the litheness of your form. Painted in the dusty alabaster of your skin. Made from the stories I wished were true.

Yet we are not the dreams of others, just as the world is not a map of our desire. You were not the fantasy I created and I was not the narrative you penned. But it was these two figures who fell in love. We were ones who followed. Hoping. Wanting so much to believe.

Now, as we sit with the blank stare of reality, we have something else. Easy to call it bitterness. Smug to call it wisdom. More beautiful, I feel, to say that this is what we made from the fire. Not just the ruins – but the light.

Love letter # 258

I sometimes think you must have fallen from the sky. I, at any rate, did not see you coming. There was a blink – and there you were. Standing next to me. So beautiful and radiant that I was taken aback. Almost concussed. Not knowing what else to do but go along. In a way, I dumbly followed you to this place of joy; and you, in turn, led without seeming to lead. So that now we are both here. Together. The whys and the wherefores merely academic. The destination trumping the journey.