FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Spiritual

  • Love letter # 286

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was to your song that I danced. It was for your dance that I played. Into your deserts I went thirsty. Into your night – so bright. Along your wild roads. To the beauty of your door. That I might be beside you. And you beside me. In harmony.

  • Love letter # 269

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Tonight I saw forever in your eyes. How calm and magnificent it was. How small we seemed beside it. Yet, safe in its embrace. For in its vast and quiet splendour there are no greedy details. Only love. Shining like the beauty in you.

  • Love letter # 475

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Overwhelmed, almost crushed, by the sheer breathtaking beauty of things. The salty air. Damp earth. The warmth of your arms around me. Again I am halted, paused in thankful reflection – grateful to whatever gods, angels or blind mechanical confluences brought me to this viewpoint. From here, through the tiny portal of my consciousness, I…

  • Love letter # 335

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It was through your beauty that I fell upon these things. On pleasant rambles unearthed. Dug from dark marrow and plucked into light. Always there, yet now known to language. These twin axes – the poles around which my life has danced – I have no more words to deny them. Eternity and mortality. All…

  • Love letter # 414

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Forgive me – for I have been the fool of beauty. It has unwound me. Stripped me back. So much so that I wonder at its power. What is this perfection of form, this ideal, that it so dissolves the structures of reason? How can a way of seeing, a kind of knowing, make so…

  • Love letter # 373

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    This is for all of us – the great unremembered. The ones who shall end in dust. In this universe of time we are but sub-atomic flickers. In the crush of history, we are the buried empires – the nameless bones – the unrecorded particulars. Less than forgotten. Barely distinguishable from the great nothing. And…

  • Love letter # 395

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In the face of everything I do not and cannot know, I know what it is I want – and though I understand that there are no guarantees, I would still prefer it. It is a simple thing; perhaps naïve and primitive, yet still it feels profound. So I wonder…will you reach out across the…

  • Love letter # 253

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You, who are my angel, you are my destroyer too – and I shall be neither the first nor the last to drown in the act of loving. This is the vessel of my sorrow, the broken raft of my undelivered fury. Like nails in me. Pretty, pretty punctures. Leftover from your kiss. How the…

  • Love letter # 909

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Take me to the end – to the place where beauty is everything – where the cell of Oneness melts into the sea of Twoness. For when I know you, I know me. And our love is the mirror by which we come into being. Because there is a shadow and there is a light;…

  • Love letter # 228

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Wasn’t it true? Didn’t we know from day one? We had a language. Written in blood and stars. There were no silly vanities with us. We had no need for the distracting glare. In the world we made with our love, there was only love. It seems so wild to say it now – to…