Love letter # 493
It’s true. I watch them passing. Firm, young, glorious. Svelte bodies, lustrous skin. Strong and lithe and full of fire. Acme of desire. Fleeting angels in our midst. Not stopping to notice us.
I look but do not follow. Burn, yet remain. Dream it all – in the space of their transit – yet wake to the stillness of watching. Here. Now. With you.
For they shall vanish, and time shall do to them as it has to us – yet I shall turn to catch your eye and know again the beauty that does not melt away. Because my love is not a passer-by. It is the shine that is sustained.
So now the parade is over, the outward looking eye has closed – and in the dark respite, you shall flower back to light. Such that I may be guided, entranced anew, to take this journey by your side.