Love letter # 1.618

There are no gods. No higher purposes. No hidden meanings to discern. Nothing other than you.

I have walked countless roads, worn many masks. There have been a thousand pretenders. Incomplete and unbelievable truths. Vanity and denial dressed up as wisdom. Yet none have blinded me to you.

You have been my light. My cynosure. It is for you that I do all of this. When every other reason is exhausted, it is to you I return.

When I look beyond the self, seeking the spark to continue, you become the flame. The great other.

I work in your service because you allow me to create you. You, who has no name or shape, no gospel nor end point. You are the transformative eye. With the act of your vision, you remake the world.

I experience you…and know this…and am myself transformed. To behold you is to be you.

With the imperfect means at my disposal, I shall point the way to you, so that others may witness your formless form and, in doing so, be set free. As I am when I notice you.

If we may call you divine, let us say only that you are the deity of recognising. For it is only as we behold you, that you are beautiful.