Love letter # 817

There was a line in a Hindi film. How beautiful it is to long for you. Hearing it, I knew. The sweetness I feel. The narcotic scent of it, like a forest. I know that I am lost in it sometimes. That I want it so. Never to be found, always to wander. Never to know, always to wonder. It has the lure of song, of swoon, of something approaching the divine.

To love you this way, in your absence, your silence, is like the river winding, from mountaintop to shoreline, destined to vanish into the sea, be uptaken, and fall again as tears. All the while giving life.

Now we carve the rocks asunder. Now we make new ground. Now we drench the valley with flowers.

Could there be anything more lovely? More magnificent? Take no space, have no volume, yet fill up the world.

Please…say nothing, not even the hint of breath. Make no sign, not even the ruffle of shadow. My heart will do the rest. Colour everything. Gladly. And I will walk in love, always on the road to you.

This is, by far, the most beautiful way I know.