FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Philosophical

  • Behold them in the triumph of light

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    What now, if anything, shall we wrest from sediment? When the pretty lights have faded to fallen husk, what shall we make of burnt out shells? This, my love, is what awaits us this spring. In the garden of history, the archaeology of whispers. Here now, bones of fire. Brush the dirt from fragments, reconstruct…

  • Love letter # 477

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    They don’t have to know the truth – just something they can believe that will make them leave us alone.

  • From afar

    From afar

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I have seen you from afar Across impossible distance The space between vision I noted tiny details From the vantage of strangers Through this blood borne prism So nearly have I touched you Vaulting infinite regress To swing within your rhythm I have never breathed your name Nor heard such outward sighs Yet still I…

  • Love letter # 474

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    The once tangible force of your presence has become a kind of archaeology. Fossilised remains. Dead pictures, pressed flat by time. The world we once fashioned with our tender belief compressed to a hush of breath. A clock ticks. It counts the leftover jewels in our crown. We, who made as if all was ours,…

  • Le retour du printemps

    Le retour du printemps

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    …Then they were in their spring, their bright emergent hope. Girls. Boys. Budding into sex and fumbling, tender belief. On the crest of hormones and heartache. Theirs was the eternity of boundless tomorrow. The widescreen romance of aching desire and the blizzard lust of newly invented love. Here the peaks of exception; vaulting the valley…

  • Love letter # 586

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Did not know I wanted you. Then I saw you near. Did not think I loved you. Then you disappeared. Was not grateful for your gifts. Then the price was paid. Could not sleep for missing you. Then I crashed awake. Felt I could not walk alone. Now I travel free. Set aside the baubles…

  • On observing the brutality of time

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    A non-descript morning. Solo coffee, people watching. No hint of rupture. And then it happens. Two strangers. Him old, her young, side by side at the counter. I see him look at her. She does not flinch. Does not notice. He bows his head. I sense what he senses. The ocean. He scuffs along, elderly,…

  • Love letter # 695

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is no control; at most, precious little. Moments like this seem to emerge, whole, shining, from the greater whole. Now there is disruption. A smooth trajectory interrupted. Yours was the merest incursion. The fraction it took. A breeze, rattling doors. New sounds in the house. This morning I woke with the thought, the half-dreamt…

  • I saw you look at stars

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It was easy to see. You in your beautiful dress. Him sitting opposite, perhaps not noticing. On his phone. Your head turned slightly to the side, looking elsewhere. Maybe it was nothing. Could have been anything. What would I know? Then you saw me looking. You held my gaze long enough. A wave came over…

  • Love letter # 513

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Perhaps I do not know what love is – this complex, convoluted feeling we sometimes conjure – but I am certain that, whatever the philosophers say, I love you. Is it a dream, a hormonal mechanism, a justification of my innate desire for validation? Will it fall apart under scrutiny, dissolving into observance? Are you…