Love letter # 448

Love is like a carpark sometimes. Y’know, circling round, looking for somewhere to pull in. Hoping someone might let you in. There’s a distinctly numeric quality to it; something banal and utilitarian when viewed through a certain prism. Especially for those of us not blessed with the beauty, wealth or status aphrodisiac.

Into this category I most certainly fit. Just one of the many. A number plate in a multi-storey parking bay. Could be anyone really.

How fortunate I am then, that for reasons I simply cannot fathom, you hit upon me. You could surely have chosen others equally as suited – if not better.

Unspectacular though I am, I am not so foolish as to pick apart your reasons. Rather, I remain utterly grateful. In the lottery of selection that we ordinary folk are effectively condemned to, it looks like my numbers came up this time.

Honestly, I could kiss you for it. 🙂 xx

Love letter # 475

Overwhelmed, almost crushed, by the sheer breathtaking beauty of things. The salty air. Damp earth. The warmth of your arms around me.

Again I am halted, paused in thankful reflection – grateful to whatever gods, angels or blind mechanical confluences brought me to this viewpoint. From here, through the tiny portal of my consciousness, I am able to glimpse something of the eternal. Not simply to behold it as dry fact but to experience it as beautiful.

Because it is the simple and extraordinary fact of your beauty that alerts me to your existence and, in that, confirms the miracle of mine. Science tells me I am a slave of process – but your glory sets me free.

For with your voice I sing – and in your form I dance in time. Yours is the tongue of the answered prayer – yours the hands that write out the verse. And when everything is shining and wonderful, it is with your eyes I see.

You have transformed the world and I shall ever love you for it.