Love letter # 732

There are moments when everything is so clear, as though the hidden simplicity of things was made abundantly known. This may seem metaphysical – spiritual – yet it is as close as kindness.

In this light we see ourselves. Fragile and fraught. We have the gift of love in our hands, yet so often we fashion a world of cruelty and vanity.

I am not innocent here. I have put thorns in your tender touch. I have held you in my arms only to abandon you. I have used the words of love yet performed the actions of control. My sins are ordinary.

How is it that we treat each other so, when each of us knows the beauty of being kind? For what have we bargained away our love?

When – finally, mercifully – I am wrought as dust, and the temple of my delusion is leftover ash, it is only the treasure of your love, and of my love for you, that will retain its shine.

Easy to say. Harder to remember. So please, the next time I am distracted by righteous conceit or tempted by fear, remind me of this moment. Show me the way back to kindness. And I shall do the same for you.