FOR MORE EUPHORIA SEARCH THE TAGS. In the meantime … get high on the vibes. – Paul.
The angel and her silence
It was you that I saw. Amidst the teeming. With its voice brash and colours bright. While the dance was happening. In the vivid swirl of wine and song. If I had arrived alone, for each brushing past I was lonelier still. Filling the space with empty sound.
Yet we did not speak, for there was nought to be said. At the distance of rooms and in the quiet of eyes everything necessary was understood. The angel and her silence. The sacred stillness of knowing. Behind the blur of noise and running…the clarity of hush. Here, love may be whispered in breath alone. The eternal murmur of our recognition.
When they had all gone, there you were. Quiet beauty. The sea of your gaze. And touch, so faint, so absolute. The angel arriving with nothing, leaving everything. The inexhaustible compassion of her mystery. For she will not be reduced to signs, and in her actless grace we too are granted the plenitude of her unspoken love.
As I looked into the deepening welcome of your eyes and saw the delicate creasing of your smile, there too I beheld the miracle of the angel and her silence.
Love letter # 503
There is much I have forgotten, details yielded to time and other fogs. But the body holds traces, relives the sensation. The wonder of your arrival, like the beating of butterfly wings. The rush of falling, as though desire, coded in flutters, remains, with the distortions of ordinary grind edited out and the purity of hunger tight in my gut. It is the sweetness of a gravity both abstracted and real. Fantasy strung out in the fibre of nerves. In these moments, mess and noise dissolve and the unobstructed current flows brilliant. I catch my breath, and in that liminal space, I love you like the dawn of everything.
Love letter # 558
Perhaps if we had not felt the immensity, we too would have sought the surety of anchors. Reduced ourselves to the bareness of names. Huddled beneath the aegis of myth. Knelt in the cathedral of tribes. Yet it was the land that we loved, not the king who laid claim. The fragile rhythm of hearts, not badges on bullish chests.
They wanted words – catechisms – when we could only make sound. They built rooms, yet ours was a house without walls. They looked to us to see themselves confirmed, yet we saw the form of the formless. In place of a hollow empire, we had the empty sublime. The light that is not a light. The eye that is the absence of seeing.
They pleaded with us to know, but we knew already that there was nothing to know. When they urged us to remain, we had long since flown. Betrayal, they cried – fearing judgement – yet we had glimpsed the mercy of silence. And in that compassion, which is an ocean, all the moorings shall be washed away, and none shall have need of islands.
Now we shall swim until we drown – for even as we drown, we shall not be broken apart. Because there is no apart. Not when you have sensed the vastness…and seen the maps dissolve.
Love letter # 492
How did I know I would find you? I did not. I merely walked. I did not call out in expectation of your response; I simply raised my voice. I did not sing for the beauty of your dance, but for the liberty of music. This house was not made as a temple, neither as a cell; only as a home. I have not loved thee for thy touch, for my love is as the rainfall, that a desert may know flowers. Nor shall thy name be carved, for a name is too small, a stone too stone. For you shall not be sought, only given. There is no toil worthy of you, for you are not a prize. Therefore, I shall not seek to know you, for I know already what I can, that you shall not be known. And here is where my love shall dwell.
Love letter # 438
I came into being with your song in my soul. I walked so as to trace your footsteps. I spoke so as to know your voice. I am naked, such that I might feel your skin. I breath to have you inside me. I weep, in order that I might drink from your well. And I shall soon sleep…that I may be returned to you.
Love letter # 790
You could easily overlook it. So nearly something you’d miss. The two of them. Next to each other on the tram. Looking at photos on a phone. Him so full of swagger. So afraid of how she makes him feel. Her laughter like promise. The way she looks at him. The light that pierces everything.
They have forever. Spring is flowering for them. Now they are as gods – golden before the fall. Weightless on the outskirts of gravity.
It wasn’t so long ago, was it? Not that far away? Arcadia. We two in our momentary pomp. In deliriously suspended disbelief. The satin swoon of youth. The euphoria of finding…and being found.
They got off in the city. Vanished into the anonymous whirl. Their joy trailing invisible tendrils of a lovely miasma. Floating, as once did we. Breathe in now, my love. Breathe it in. Breathe it in. Breathe it in.
Love letter # 439
This evening, conjured by the angled sun, called up by the softening folds of seasonal air, you were with me once more. Present in my charged senses. Or rather, I was back there – then – decades evaporated – on the trundling red train, moving up the hill to your teenage welcome.
Perhaps I should have known. The freshly scented spring. The first few weeks after equinox. Sky not yet bleached by summer. And the light. Crisp still, yet turning by shades to honey. The splendid colour of you. Of remembering.
For you arrived like the flowers, like bird chorus and bee thrum, and love was grown from bare limbs. Sweetness woken from its frosted sleep. It was the Eden of everything. All the fruit anew. No thought for shame, nor serpents.
And then…spring, summer, autumn…we did not make into winter; and you found warmth with another. I very nearly froze. Yet eventually thawed. Went back to the garden. Found other blooms. Grew older. Kept only pictures of you. Faded, crinkled, sitting in a shoebox. The butterfly pinned. Dry.
Except now. Emerged. Alive in the scent of the gold toned evening. The full swoon in flow. As though I could smell your hair. See the little freckles on your cheekbone. Feel the cool euphoria of your skin. We walked. Talked as always. Laughed. And your beaming eye shot a fire right through me, so that now my blissed out tears are opal. Tonight, for an hour, perhaps more, I will love you again as though loving had just been invented.
What flowers you have tended with your touch. What seasons you have brought to bear. What thanks I give for these patient seeds, nestled in muscle and time, that they might bring such bounty to my door.
They are all you
Ever since I met you, I have always known. It is not that they are shadows, nor you their ghostly forebear. Neither do they replace you, or simply stand in your place. They shall not follow in your wake, nor wear thy lovely crown. The shiver of your love shall not be stilled in their embrace…for they are all you.
Now that I have tasted skin and mouth, woken in their warmth, I know it even more. When I am dancing at their side, dazzled with the shine, very nearly blind, this is what I find. They are all you, my love. They are all you.
In slanted light – in the golden, diagonal hand – I watch the lifted motes in beams, the graceful math of their floating; and with my quiet wonder I see it clear. They are all you.
And when, to the chorus of birds, in my song-filled garden, I bend to pick the fallen feather, I sense for a moment the thrill of their flying. I watch as they ascend, as if to a beat in a hidden hymn, and I know it, as they know the wing. For they are all you, my love. They are all you.
Hear now, the distant bell. Beauty come in waves. The cells of my body in tune. Your invisible signature, like time. Yes, even the sound, and the silence that makes it known…they are all you.
For I have breathed it in; this air of your ever present absence. In my lungs, in my blood, in my heart and my brain. In marrow and sinew, viscera and derma. All these scurrying parts, they bring me to your door, as ever they have. I feel them as your tender touch, like whispers you exhale. Again, my skin will go to bumps and you will pass right through me, and I will know it over and over.
They are all you, my love. They are all you.
Love letter # 422
Yes, I hear them. I know what they’re saying. I can even understand why they say it. But they don’t know. They have mistaken appearance for substance. Their judgement is coded in the beliefs they have about themselves. Their cynic’s wisdom is a cleverly clothed self-loathing. So do not worry, I hear them but do not believe. For you have shown me the beautiful paradox; and together we have discovered that the glory of the song lies between the notes. Our house is not made of walls…but of the space they map. Let them have their landmarks, their names and tags, their tiny, ring-fenced world. We can glimpse the more that isn’t more. The thing that isn’t a thing. The present that is always absent. We can leave it all behind, right now, and have everything in return.
Love letter # 413
It’s like one of those Phil Spector, Wall of Sound, girl group songs. Rapturous, romantic, almost innocent. Such an intense swoon. An immense wave of light headed ecstasy. Heart like those crashing drums, blood buzzed with overwhelming electricity. I could dance all night. Maybe forever. As long as you are near.
So yeah – that’s what it feels like with you. Like leaves will never fall and fanciful dreams turn out true. As if, in the blink between the blissed out beats, nothing is beyond us – and we are young again and everything is laid out plain as day, all the while the sweet songs play. For we are like the needle poised, ready to spin and soar and be alive.
Love letter # 445
It required an act of surrender to be free.
It was from the darkness that the light was seen.
It took the zero to make an infinity.
It took the many to mould a unity.
Only in the Other did the I unfold.
For in your voice is my story told.
Love letter # 664
The look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know. Your lips communicate, with soft pressure, the core truth. There is no call for a label. For a flag or an ism. For a placard or an ‘identity’. We are in not in need of causes and walls and us‘n’them markers. There is no acronym for us. We simply see one another and are seen in return. The doors are open, the windows unblocked, the borders dissolved. We have dispensed with the myths of perfection and perfidy, smashed the shiny altar of baubles. We are not the things we carry, nor the names they call us. The only people here now are you and I. Flowers in the mirror of being. So let’s hold hands, let’s go where we may; and leave the rest of them to bicker over the wording.
Love letter # 768
I saw you before your eyes sought me out, heard your song before you said my name. I saw you in the sea before there was an island. I sensed the onset long before the rain. The signs of you were clear before you spelled it out. You had reached across the space between us without the need for hands. For I was falling in advance of you. My love in bloom in the long, quiet winter. Before a single word had thawed the darkened ground. And then we met, and I knew.
Love letter # 691
I was the starving till you grew. I was the drifter, then you called. But I had an anchor, you had wings, hoping to light a path from here. Now we’re on a journey home, my love – to the sea where the islands meet and sleep. And there we will find we have everything … because nothing at all is everything.
Love letter # 442
For you I need look no further. You are in my blood, electricity in my fibres. You are made of the same sinew, and in the subsoil of my being you have grown to fruition.
When I am dancing, you are the animator. When I sing of love it is with your voice. When it matters, it is because of you.
If I once dreamt of you, now you are awakened inside me. Now I search no more; for you are evoked by simple thought. The world does not contain you, except that it contains me. You are no longer the other but instead are me, as I am also you. Two but one; one but two.
Like sand, lime, soda and fire – we have become glass, from which this mirror is carved. Dirt and flame, earth and star – blood and love. And thence, upon seeing…seen.
Love letter # 440
I could say it in a million ways but it always comes back to this: I love you.
What does that mean? To be honest, I can’t pin it down – but I can sure feel it. This love, whatever it is, is as obvious as breath, as vital as blood. It is in me. Waiting. Yearning for release.
Perhaps it is a form of madness. Or music. Again, I could carve it to pieces, but it would still be just this: the yearning I feel in your presence, the longing that sighs in my bones when you are elsewhere.
And now, at the thought of you, the flower unfolds and all the world is heady scent. And I inhale – and somehow, you are inside me, and I love it.
Love letter # 435
You passed me on the stairs and, over shoulders, with half turns, our eyes locked. I spied you in the corner of a room, your thoughts in clouds, looking as though you knew. I watched you as you walked – and as you drew near. We very nearly brushed against each other. Like me, you were holding your breath. Now you sit beside me. Now the silence is ours.
There is a world out there, blurring by beyond the plane of a window, this clouded canvas upon which we now draw our fingertip shapes in condensation. Your graceful distance, my humble presence. Your gorgeous melancholy, my pilgrim adoration. Your shimmering solitude, my lonesome prayer.
We hover in a kind of absence, dance to a song without form. Ours is the realm without border, the house without walls. We live nowhere. Claim nothing. Do not yield to the stricture of names. You and I are not even you and I; for now we are in the melted space, not even space. We are the paradox of two and one and three – the trinity that adds up to nothing. The emptiness that contains all things. The dark eye, beholder of flooding light.
I wonder now – indeed I have already forgotten – how it was I lived without you.
Love letter # 512
Everything changes, this we know, and our attempts to keep things as they are fly in the face of logic and evidence. Yet, for all that, my unfaltering love for you. Like an eternal, indivisible force – or rather, a clear and unmoving viewpoint from which to gaze out upon the world. A sublime centrality.
For I still measure the nights by your kiss, and wonder at the dawn by the brightness of your smile. I still walk the miles by the closeness of your hand and dance the dance to the meter of your sway. And to this day I cast all beauty in your form. Hear all songs in your voice. Comprehend joy by the music of your laughter. Indeed, through the prism of my loving you, I sift out the light and the dark, and everything in between, and, by this means, understand that they are one.
Love letter # 353
The way she looks up at him as they walk along. How he basks in her attention. Their secret tongue. The manner of their touching. The lustre of a private vision in their eyes. All the beautiful details of their moving together. This is what I want to share with you.
Love letter # 999
Why don’t you walk into the night, my love – obscure yourself in shadows – and why not a light a fire when you get there – so that later I might find you – even in the darkness?
Love letter # 387
It’s the fall of your hair. The lustrous cascade of it. The gorgeous wave it has. Those golden highlights. More than just beautiful; borderline majestic. For when you free it from its workaday constraint and it flows like a sparkling river of light, I too am simply swept along. As though I were a strand, dancing to the cool cadence of your stride, or a melody line in the beguiling and ever mysterious hymn you sing to the higher ideal. That such a simple thing should somehow offer hints of the unfathomable often leaves me speechless – with nothing left to understand; only that I love you.
Love letter # 404
When we obliterate the triviality of detail, when we pass through the frontier of control, all we have is the golden light. The pure, unbounded enfolding. The embrace that is not withheld for the want of names or the quibble of character. It is the sea we never leave; in which we are all drowning. Fragile swimmers.
In this extraordinary vastness we are swooning. Inside this immensity we shall neither be lost nor found, woman nor man. Just motes in the eye of the shining. Which shall not blink for judgement – only see. And we … we shall simply be.
Love letter # 511
The world may well decree, logic might dictate, reason will surely give pause – but what do we care about that right now? This could be little more than a moment, a flickering light in a sea of grey. We know this – but today, tonight, it is our light. Not because we own it or we’re entitled to it; simply because we made it. Because we decided. And will decide again and again until one or both of us chooses something else. We can call it love if we want, or simply desire. Or mutual hunger. Or recognition. These are words – and our light is neither bound by them nor by history or expectation. It shines when we shine it. For now at least, we are blessed by this glorious deciding; and even if only in the faulty museum of memory, we can always have this. If we want.
Love letter # 411
For though it once bled dry, now again it is the spring. If in the desert it once drained, now the sea it fills again. Though darkness fell and night was black, now once more the dawn has come. And in the light, the beating strong; the thirsty, parching doubt now gone.
Love letter # 346
It is not simply that I love you but that, in you, I am the act of love. Your eyes turn me into light, your voice into song. When you move I am the dance – and when you leave I am the distance between stars. But your touch … now I am the very stuff of being; the act of becoming. In your presence, the unmanifest infinity collapses to a moment. A breath. A beat. A kiss.
Love letter # 496
She was sitting in a pool of sunlight. It sparkled in her hair. Like diamonds dancing. I watched her quietly. Entranced. After about thirty seconds she turned, our eyes met and her smile unfolded like splendour. For a beat we were in sync. And in that moment I was with you once more. Remembering how you dazzled me – and why I still l
Love letter # 1418
Now the distance uncrossable. Here the worthless keepsakes, dusted with the film of years. Now the vastness of time. This the deep quiet that separates us. These the gestures, the thousand follies. This the going through the motions. I the act. Everything ritual. Take a step, then another. Smile. Be nice. Pretend. Forgive them their trespasses. Try not to acknowledge the undeniable fact.
Now that I have been to edge of you, seen the shadows thrown by your shining, beheld the awesome emptiness your eye describes, heard the silence that is the beauty of your song – I walk amongst this clutter of noise and ceremony as a stranger. Here, but not here. Out in the immensity with you. In the realm of the infinite nothing. In the ecstasy of your completeness. How I could disappear with you, my love. How I could disappear.
Love letter # 385
There is a scene that has remained with me. It is autumn, the air is turning damp. The light a misty gold. We are standing outside your house. You smile at me. Kiss me politely. It is a promise. I float into the gathering night. I adore you.
But it goes no further …
Years later, on a cold foggy morning I stare into the veil of winter and it is as if you are still there, waiting on the kerb for me to return. And as this fog lifts I begin to understand with hard finality that that was the moment – you there, within reach, your lush mouth, the smell of you, and the tumble of your hair. Everything that was going to be – but never was.
I know that I could rise up with this mist, dissolve back into the invisible, let go this tenuous hold. No, not despair. Not regret. Rather, calmness. Completion. The angel has looked upon me – and I have stood beside her. I smile at the feel of the sun as it burns off the dewy shroud and the wispy remainders of you melt away to the banality of another ordinary day. Although perhaps you will later fall as rain.
Then … words. These. Your beauty, my longing. Time. The creak of aged bones. The space between memory and acceptance. Those few seconds when we stood so close. The silent certainty after your kiss.
And of course, what came after.
Love letter # 470
It doesn’t take much. Just your name. Spoken, thought of or written down. Four letters to let loose the storm. To break the night open. Smash the atoms. Destroy the ramparts of denial. For you are the end of my arrogance and the beginning of my nakedness. You are the eviscerating force that reduces bullish language to supplicant sound. If, before you, I was noise and colour and pomp, with your kiss I was quietened. In your hands, made humble. With your love, unleashed.
Because we wanna ride it to the end.
You said, how was it we found each other? I replied, because we wanna ride it to the end.
We know this now. It’s been confirmed a thousand times. It’s why there is an ever growing space between them and us. Why they snitch. Talk behind their hands. Smile in that condescending way. Take pity on us; like we ever needed their sanctimonious ‘understanding’.
They stick to the middle, living in beige safety. In fear of the other. Fear of themselves. That’s why they hold fast to the doomed mechanisms of control. They think the suicide bombers are the terrorists – but look at them; polluting the land and sea and sky in the name of mortgage belt horror and 24/7 plastic coated convenience. In the name of their so called lifestyle. Their precious standard of living. Or God forbid, family values. Is there anything more pusillanimous and complacent?
It’s why we need to let them go. Because we wanna ride it to the end. Because we know we’ll burn. Because we’re cool with the idea that it all comes to nothing. We do not require the opium of storybook narratives – their Gods and after lives, their bucket lists and status cults, the vanity of their one sentence enlightenment. Let’s leave them to their belief and elope with our beautiful doubt.
We are but a breath away from nothing, my love. So let’s breathe. Allow the wave to take us. Surf the uncertainty. Because we’re gonna ride it to the end. Because in the end, the end is all there is. The futile struggle to hang on is for slaves. They can keep their bondage – their manacles made of dread and denial – and leave us to fall from the sky. To know, for the merest of blinks, the euphoria of flight.
Does that answer your question?
Love letter # 396
There is no law – no God, no ruling, no ethical injunction, no spiritual brownie points to be gained – nothing that says you have to want this. This is I shall give to you freely, but only if you will freely accept it. I will offer no argument, make no case, perform no empty rituals. I shall bring no gifts as bribes. Neither shall I make you promises that cannot be reasonably upheld. I simply offer this incredible love blooming inside me – so beautiful it is bursting out of me as I write, surging in my blood like the liberating splendour of light. It feels like a kind of rapture. Sounds like a song in my heart. Will you nurture it with me? Will you? Will you?
Love letter # 343
It is as simple as this: I think of you and a wave of warmth and tenderness washes over me and all of my fears dissolve in that moment.
Love letter # 489
You were in my dreams all night. I woke up with your beautiful dark eyes sparkling at me – and I was reminded of the person I came to know in private; the tender, vulnerable, passionate one. The one who is bursting with love.
Yet of course we both know this is not the you we see in public. That version of you pushed me away. Drew blood from me. Tried to score points on me. Pretended not to care. So much so that I responded by closing the door on you. And rightfully so.
Last night though, in the alternative universe of the dream, I was with you in your tiny flat and your façade had melted and you were you again – and I was as in love with you as I ever was.
Beneath the ridiculous self-defeating masks we all wear there is something much more glorious than pride and achievement and image. Perhaps I am being foolishly optimistic to think that we might ever let this reign in our waking hours – but in my dreams I was reminded that my love for you is burning like a star. That it is a kind of light.
We may have opted for shadows but those brilliant beams still shine – and they are pouring from my heart this morning in a heady, delirious rush. Making their way back to you, babe.
Love letter # 349
I understand that things like love and beauty and truth are almost absurdly romantic notions in a world obsessed with attainment and spectacle. I can already see you wincing at their mere mention. Yet still I shall kindle the flame for you. And if, for this poetic folly, I shed a few tears and lose a little skin, so be it. For I would rather go to the cross for the fire than subsist on the crumbs of a cold compromise I can no longer endure.
Love letter # 393
I would have waited a hundred years for someone like you – but you are already here. Wave of exultation. Obliterating light. Storm of splendour. And I am washed away. Running in the river with you. Falling back to the centre. Returning to the great nothing. To the sublime and beautiful union of emptiness. With your name as my guide.
Love letter # 471
They don’t know – but we do. That’s what marks us out from them. They respond to the truth with pacification, denial and judgement. And worse – advice. What we have they can only guess at. It’s why they think we’re strange. Cast their sideways glances.
Yet what they may never work out is that we can tell – and that now we have found one another we are immune. In fact, we are not even surprised anymore. We just send little signs across the ether – just to make sure we’re on the same page. Which we always are.
Everyone sees that we’re together but not how we’re together. In this way, our public love is really secret. The source of our unity beyond the standard conventions and corruptions. It’s not that we’re superior. Just that we know. That we have felt. And that we are no longer afraid. Of anything. Least of all them.
Love letter # 308
Your picture popped up in my news feed. A big party smile. Your eyes alive. It shot me through. My heart thundered. And it was clearer to me than ever. Try as I might to find other explanations the simple fact is that I am totally in love with you.
Love letter # 449
You are a beautiful light in the world. You are all the far flung wonders. You are the songs inside me.
And I am the traveller, drawn by your flame. An island you stopped to name. And here I am – dancing to the music you are. Walking in the way that you shine. Blessed just to be your side.
I Am The Silk Road
I am the Silk Road.
I am the yin and the yang.
I live in the air between cloud and ground.
I am the beautiful rain.
Lover of flowers,
Seeder of dreams,
Maker of seas.
I come from the space between night and day,
Where there is no East – and there is no West.
I ride to the place where the rivers meet.
I drink at the well of a thousand years.
In my blood the ghosts are dealing.
In my heart the gold they trade.
And in my eyes the things they saw,
And with my hands the things they made.
I am the song of every singer,
The child of every home.
I live in every village
Breaking bread with every soul.
There is no love I shall not know
On this journey by your side,
For there is no you and there is no I –
Because we are together
And we are the silk road.
Love letter # 363
When the rushing and the distractions are over for the day and I have no resistance to the thought of you, then I am reminded. Of the beautiful fragility you evoke. Of that thing in my heart which needs no explaining and cannot be explained away.
I can hold you at bay in the daylight hours but when I am alone with myself in the night you are just a stray wish away. You are the dream of tenderness. The promise of harbour. The deep and primitive yearning for connection.
Sure I can live without you. In fact, I could never you see you again and still survive. But then, in the sable embrace of night, I conjure your arms and know without doubt that I would rather have you by my side than be right or proud or strong.
Wisdom is a largely toothless tiger and enlightenment most often a pleasant and passing mood. Much deeper rivers run inside us, busting every dam that we build. There is one such current in my wires right now, fizzing with the charge of your name. The sweet, soft light of another quiet night.
Love letter # 341
You are the point of stillness at the centre of everything. You are the silence inside the sound. The empty house to which everything returns. The kingdom after the fall. When the fury of all our doing subsides, we shall be with you.
If I lose sight of this when you’re gone, I recall it when you’re near. After the distraction of the world, with your touch I am reminded. For when the storms of all my drama blow out there is but the calm expanse of you.
I am in your sea and you are all around me – and though I am but floating on your skin it is your unfathomable depth that holds me up.
For If You Will Take My Hand
We may well be lost. Broken. It may all be pointless. Doomed. This road we stumble down might lead to nowhere. Oblivion. Yet should you choose to walk this way with me … then, my angel, all beauty shall flower for you and I and we shall take our remaining steps as though carried by the slow moving and merciful wave that delivers all travellers to the glory of surrender. For if you will take my hand … everything. Just everything.
Love letter # 975
It’s not just that you have brought something vital and electrifying to my life but rather that your advent – and the fact of my loving you so – has transfigured the whole world. If I once thought it corny now I am in awe.
Today I walk in beauty. Tonight I shall sleep in the peace of my lover’s nearness. And in the morning, the mere fact that you will be right there beside me will fill me up like the bliss of breathing.
Such simple things – mundane almost – yet in the wake of your stunning arrival they too are like music. I hear their songs deep in the beating river of my heart and I stand ready to burst into the full throated aria of you and me.
They say that love reinvents everything, like some kind of emotional reboot function, and when I am next to you I feel it – clean, youthful and fresh with newborn purpose.
Until you, I never honestly thought these things possible. I hoped. I imagined. I wrote it off as hormones. With you – emboldened by the spark that fires up in your eyes – I have discovered a different brand of faith. No gods, no mantras, no absurd moral codes. Only that I believe in you as you believe in me.
Surely there’s a pretty good song in that. xx
Love letter # 537
Yes, it’s you. You I want to love in a crazy, unrestrained way. With all the intense and euphoric madness I possess. With this river inside me. In the ecstasy of belting rain. Like a kind of bursting. As though I were a loud and wild song. As if I was an everlasting candle burning sweet. Like there was nothing else. Just the glorious, obliterating outpour – and you and I – shining like some kinda star.
Love letter # 307
From where I sit I cannot genuinely know what you want – but this I can say: if it’s warmth and closeness, if it’s a deep and lasting connection, shelter in a storm, fire in the night, the idea that someone has your back, that somebody will put you before others, perhaps even before themselves, that in all the world it will be you … this is where I stand. If you are ready to risk the folly of such glorious promising, I will swear it here and now. You need only breathe it and I shall sing it loud – and to that heady music we can dance at last. You and me. Us. Does that sound good?
Love letter # 425
All I know is that when you sent me that txt last night my heart rate doubled in an instant. My blood surged. A king tide of warmth washed through me.
I have tried to keep these feelings at bay – aware of how easily they could unseat me, how entirely vulnerable they could render me – but at your every whisper they flare. Not like pain but joy. Promise. The sweet delirium of falling.
Yet I am terrified. It is, of course, the age old fear of breaking. Once more.
So I write you this in order that you understand that I am not unaffected. That this matters. That you are very definitely something. That it’s you I dream of.
For though it is mixed with the accumulated history of my dread, it is without doubt the brightest, most wonderful light to have shone upon me in years.
I know that the next few weeks and months will ultimately tell the tale of this – that desire, proclivity and circumstance will weigh in with their powerful influence – but tonight I shiver. Uncertain. Knowing that with the merest push I will stumble and that, upon standing, I shall find myself in love with you.
Love letter # 297
Tonight your light is of such a wondrous quality that, in the fire of its glow, I would gladly yield to the greater darkness. Your song so lovely I could fold into the oceanic silence. Here your gifts are so overwhelming that I could give them all to the void. In this moment beside you all time could cease. For with our love we have purged the world of its sturm und drang. Of its distracting drama. Leaving only this. The infinitely small and endless sea of now.
Love letter # 286
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
In the softening arms of the evening I fall into the swoon of you. My veins are like electric wires, my breath in gasps. For what a desert I have crossed to be with you. How long I have waited for this lovely rain. This flower that fills my senses.
There are distances unmeasurable – so long they have stood between us. Now vanquished. Even the infinite, it seems, will fold into this tender proximity. Everything contained in your kiss. All gifts at the touch of your hand. As though it were light that we shared. A way of seeing. Being.
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 # 278
As though no time whatever had passed – only we had gotten older. That awesome light. The very form of you. That golden thread. My heart in full flood. The raindrop returning to its home in the sea. You beside me. Now I see how truly unimportant everything else was. Is. Just to be near you. To know once more. Not for a second did the stars fade out. As though eternity blinked and everything was beautiful once more.
Love letter # 335
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 my great loves, my lofty vaults of thought, the very beholding of infinity I have credited myself with – all this wrapped in fragile, failing flesh. In poor eyes and creaking hips. In freezing bones and coughing fits. The song of forever in a moment of breath. A scratched up atom of the everlast.
For this is what I know when I am with you. When your beauty is too much for ordinary ideas.
The mortal eternal: this is I. All of forever and nothing at all.
It is to these mirrored gods I surrender – because as I yield to the mortal, so too I bow to the eternal. As I accept nothing, I shall have everything once more. It shall reside in my breath – and ring the bells when I see you. I shall be cleansed in the light that you bring – ready to be dirty again.
To such beauty I surrender. As I have to you, my love. As I have to you.
Love letter # 414
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 splendid the shape of the world that even though the sound mind senses the misty error of its perceiving, still it is swayed?
My years and all their collected and catalogued disappointments tell me that you are just one of many – another other, about which I know scarce more than optimism will contend – and yet … how you move in subtle glory. Fine of figure. Sweet of disposition. Sharp and quick of mind and humour.
Why is it that I would willingly blow my cover to show my heart to you? Why would I bend to shape of your touch? Kneel at the shrine of your kiss? Because there is something in beauty that must be revealed. Beheld.
We all are broken and corrupted creatures – yet in our beauty we are nigh divine. As you seem to me now. For here are the very bells – chiming like a song in your nearness – that have woken me from my sensible slumber and turned my maddened eyes to thee.
Love letter # 401
This is your time of year; the soft and quiet settling of winter. In your boots and scarves. Your alabaster skin in the pale and watery light. Dark eyes shining out of the mist. Warm breath foggy as you stand beside me. The promise of a hearth inside you. The welcoming crackle of your smile.
For when the early night falls and bare trees make bony lines in crisp moonshine, I am at one with you – wrapped in cosy arms. In the hibernating world, spring is being prepared – locked yet in damp ground – but there for all to know, should they wish to. And we do.
In this seasonal chill I celebrate the rich and earthy beauty of you. Where all else seems grey and uninspired, you come alive. Fleur d’hiver. Brighter than sky. Lighter still than the smoky, drifting mizzle of evening. Making everything gorgeous.
Love letter # 332
Your beauty is enough to have me doubt my calling. Whenever I am anywhere near you all those fine determinations unravel. Perhaps this is the weakness in me – or maybe it is my salvation.
At the idea of your embrace, my cleverness seems like so much arrogant pretence – for how can wisdom ever compare to a kiss? And when I dance with you – when we swoon – I am only in that moment with you – and there I am free.
It is in the brilliance of the light that I am at one. Without the weight of ideas. Released from the bloated denials of spirituality. This is the wonderful sea in which I float with you. Where I would gladly drown by your side.
Love letter # 274
For I may chance upon a million or more brilliant stars in heaven – yet no brighter light have I seen but you.
Love letter # 395
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 mystery of the great in-between and risk the possibility of heartbreak to walk awhile beside me? Will you sing this song with me? Can we dance in time? Is there a way that you can set aside your fears – as I will let go of mine? Are you ready to abandon the arrogance of knowing for the adventure of finding?
All this I would gladly. If only to hold you.
For there is nothing of which I am certain – no kingdom I would rather, no riches I would gather in your stead. My status, the opinions of others and the hubris of higher purpose – these I shall set as nought. Because in the almost impossible vastness of everything there is nothing I would rather than to love you. Even if for the flicker of a flame.
It may burn to ground in the end, yet by the warmth of that inferno we shall have shone – and with the memory of such a fire we can forever rest in peace. Like distant stars. Lonesome lights beaming out across the blackness.
The only question is: will you?
Love letter # 258
I sometimes think you must have fallen from the sky. I, at any rate, did not see you coming. There was a blink – and there you were. Standing next to me. So beautiful and radiant that I was taken aback. Almost concussed. Not knowing what else to do but go along. In a way, I dumbly followed you to this place of joy; and you, in turn, led without seeming to lead. So that now we are both here. Together. The whys and the wherefores merely academic. The destination trumping the journey.
Love letter # 384
Realising how uncool it is these days to admit to something as old school as love, I do so anyway. How else to explain the way I feel about you? What other word to apply to the warmth that courses through me at your proximity?
I do not propose to sacrifice my self-respect or put on hold my life for you – but I do feel ready to make you first amongst my equals and to consider how the actions I take may impact upon you. I will take you into my deepest confidence and most sacred trust – give you all that is healthy to give to another. No door shall be automatically closed to you. No games played at your expense.
If you will only allow this river to flow, it will surely flood the plains – and there the most beautiful things shall grow.
You do not need to call it love – but I most certainly will – and if you shall receive it, I will offer it up for as long as I can foresee. I cannot say it plainer than this.
Love letter # 381
I keep looking at that photo – the one where your eyes loom out of the crowd, looking straight down the barrel, enigmatic smile on your kissable lips. I keep wondering what you were thinking and why you seem to be looking right through me. Or if I’m just a delusional fool who is being tricked by your beauty into dreaming something too wonderful to ever be true. And then I look again – and I am all sea once more. Swimming in this fantasy of you.
Love letter # 317
To you – finally – I can speak. Show. Become. And all the lies – so many fucking lies – they are no longer required. Like the frontier undefended. Ramparts abandoned. For in you, all the reason I ever needed to destroy the masks. Because you alone have seen me without the need for the shallow acclamation of pretty. Or the lurid glitter of victory. As I see you. Even in the thrall of darkness I can find you with this compass – as you shall come to me. For tonight every single star shall be ours to behold.
Love letter # 909
Take me to the end, my love – to the place where beauty is everything – where the cell called Oneness melts into the sea of the 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 – meaningless without one other. So lead me to the start, my love – where tears like pearls are the birth of a river. The one that flows through us all.
Love letter # 330
When I walked beside you yesterday it was as though the pelting rain were washing me clean. Drowning me in a beautiful monsoon. Turning the parched terrain into a sea of flowers.
Yes, it may well have been a grand delusion – but what spellbinding hallucination it was. For a few moments at least I was light and clean and my vision was as clear and euphoric as the morning light is after a long and fractuous night.
In life’s ordinary passage we may only be granted small windows with which to view the promised glory. At the sight of your smile I was granted one such audience. And in the tender shimmer of your eyes I had the hope that such splendour may lay in wait for one such as I.
Love letter # 380
Have you ever felt that someone really gets you? Sees you, hears you? I used to answer no to all these questions. Then I met you.
It wasn’t just that our eyes met and liked what they saw. Yes, it was a kind of chemistry but it went much deeper than the obvious allure.
I think I saw the person inside you peering out at me from behind the bars – as I looked out at you.
Is it truly a hopeless folly to believe that we can reach out across the space in between? Set off a spark in the thin air? Help find the keys for one another?
Though we live in a world that dreams chiefly of itself are we not also free to believe in the idea that with our loving we may change the world? That we may paint the night with stars.
Then again, perhaps all I know is that my vision was filled with you last night and that this morning I am about to send you this.
Love letter # 302
I loved you from the very first moment I saw you, for reasons that aren’t reasons. Without me knowing why or exactly how, a beam of light passed from your eye to mine and the question was both asked and answered in an instant. Less than an instant. As though I had always known you. As though you had walked forever by my side.
Today, I think of this miraculous confluence as an act of recognition. Of twin souls reconnecting. I realise that this is a highly romantic interpretation of events but of all the explanations I can reasonably summon, it is the one that fits best. The one that feels right.
And that spontaneous fire has never dimmed. Sure, there have been flutters, but every time the flames have come back stronger. Brighter. Now, every day, we warm ourselves by their lovely glow and still, on occasions, their heat passes into our limbs and we two are a kind of conflagration. As though it were that first amazing moment when I loved you without language or limitation.
Love letter # 367
Sometimes, when you are near to me, I feel as though a vast and slow moving waveform is travelling quietly but inexorably within me. Through me. That you are as the moon and I am as the tides – lifted up by you. It is a humble feeling and I surrender to it utterly; and am set free because of it. And when you bring tears to my eyes I am cleansed. And when you kiss me I am an inferno.
Sometimes, my love for you is all things. Nothing less than the shape of everything. The light of the stars. Distances beyond measure. The minute stillness between breaths. Indeed, my love is where I come to rest. In your beautiful embrace. In this extraordinary tenderness that has changed me completely.
Sometimes, when I feel your hand in mine, all the world is at peace – and I can just be.
Love letter # 268
When the skin is blood and the heart is fire, and the mind is the sound of the driving rain, this is when I will know for sure. That there is only one path I can take – and it will lead me to your door. To the point where I will lay it all before you and say, without fear: this is it. Here is what I bring for you. These are my imperfect bones. This my humble love, which bears no name but yours. Belongs nowhere but here. And if you will accept it, so shall it be yours for as long as you wish it.
Love letter # 221
I was so afraid to ask you that I had to write this letter instead. The words I tried to form got stuck. Disassembled at the sight of you. Maybe I thought I was too old for this kind of adolescent nervousness. How wrong your beauty proved that to be.
And so here it is – that which I could not find the courage or the clarity to say in person. The thing that has been burning me. Consuming me. Keeping me awake.
I can offer no logical explanation, no well thought out series of points – just the simple confession of one who is alive with loving. Who shivers at the very thought of you. Who wishes to dedicate himself to you. Who has nothing else to say but will you please be mine.
Love letter # 499
There is a certain song – I’m sure you know the one. Whenever it plays I am in your arms. Suddenly, the distractions of my busy day and the vanity of my ambitions are dissolved and I am reconnected with what truly matters. My unbounded, undying and all-encompassing love for you. The sheer beauty of it makes me feel. Strips away my hubristic thinking and arrogant resistance. Returns me to the core.
Whenever I hear it I love you like forever. I cherish you as I do life itself. And I yearn to be next to you. If only I could play, I swear this song would be my troth to you. But I am a poor fool instead – making do with the clumsy clunk of words.
Yet even as the song ends – my love remains – so much more than an echo. So much more than anything else.
Love letter # 255
When only I stopped seeking you, did I know for sure. When only I could cease to grasp, did you open up to me. And when I loved you strong and true how that flower bloomed. For then my love was a golden light – shining in your eyes.
Love letter # 229
Though we may dream of it, I think we all eventually come to accept that there is no perfection in these things. No one can fulfil us completely. Indeed, those we love most often create disappointment. I realise that this is your experience – and of course it is mine too.
This is why you are holding me at bay. For I am just another suitor – full of promises and hunger – hankering after your body and your affection. Just the latest in a line stretching back to your teenage years. Nothing to mark me out from a history of botched and abusive romance.
I cannot fight your bruises – nor upend your memory. Neither will I offer you eternity or paradise, for these are not in my power to make yours. All I can bring to you is the flower that is blooming in my soul. The exhilaration in my blood whenever you are near to me. The tenderness that overwhelms me when you smile.
Perhaps you have heard such declarations before and found them wanting. You may even think them sophistry – a trick to unwind you. Yet if you could know what was in my heart – hear this song I sing for you – all doubt would be erased. You would see that what little I have I am willing to give freely to you. All the love I can muster. Every ounce of my feeble treasure. Nothing kept hidden.
And only the light shining – pure and cleansing – like renewal.
Love letter # 424
At the end of it all – when the baubles of vanity finally reveal themselves to be of no value – we can come to understand the absolute supremacy of love. Not simply because love can create life itself or make us glow with the most extraordinary sense of well-being – but because it represents a bridge out of the self and into the wonderful sea of being. When we truly love, we are more than ourselves, more than that tiny, mortal speck we call I.
From you I have learned all this – and now I will remember it every day until there are no more days.
And even then I will love you.
Love letter # 251
I know I have said it a million times – perhaps I will say it a million times more – but for me it bears repeating. It is why I am here today. On the crest of something.
Because if asked what I would have given for you, I would have said burn everything. Set fire to the universe.
And having known such exceptional, innocent clarity how could I possibly return unchanged to the noisome contest of thought or the ridiculous folly of control? For when you have been dissolved in a sea of desire and you have become the ocean it makes little sense to play at islands.
So I sit here in the earthbound box that is my world, typing out the last steps of a journey that began with your beautiful eyes. It is as though – slowly, very slowly – I am learning what you already knew. That there is a place of pure love. And, if we allow ourselves to surrender to it utterly, we shall be set free.
Love letter # 271
When I am with you I am floating, as though there were a shield of light around me – the light that comes from your love. Yet it is not your love of me that arms me against that so-called slings and arrows – it is my love for you.
For when I am with you I am flowing – a beam of joy radiating out of me. And in this flow everything is resolved. All difficulty melted to simplicity. All the old wounds healed. And there is nought but the pure and unbroken wave that carries us both back home.
Love letter # 320
Although it is now our habit to see the less attractive parts of our relationship – and I, like you, have wondered why I am still here – there are times when I recall the beauty. When I reconnect with the buzz and the undeniable sense of recognition. When I thank every available deity that it’s you who walks beside me. The difference is, this time I am overcoming my rusted on tiredness and letting you know that tonight was one such time. Not just because I remembered it but because I felt it. And it was alive.
Love letter # 242
In the end, I will leave with exactly what I came with; so I would like to spend some of that journey with you. It would make things brighter. There would be skin. And weakness. And splendour. And all other catechisms of purpose. Yet perhaps there is something quieter, something beneath the mighty clamour, which we may find one day, which is the true beauty we both seek.
Love letter # 287
When I reach the final turn, as I know I must, I will do so having known what it is to speed blindly into the corners. And I will arrive with the scent of your kiss on my lips. For this, of all my earthly treasures, I shall yield up last.
Love letter # 574
Though I told myself I would be ‘strong’ it takes so little to undo me. Just knowing you’re online – your name in the newsfeed. I see the little thumbnail of you and a warm bloom opens out inside me, like a flower in the spring, obeying some greater call. And my tough determination withers and before I know it I’m typing.
I know you’re never coming back. And anyway there is no back. But your name in sans serif and your lovely smile in miniature – small enough to look past, just enough to know that a fire still flickers. Even though I left it untended long ago.
We think we’re in control, such spiritual beings – but we’re not. We’re animals. We act like gods sometimes but we still walk in the dirt. And I only have to see your name in print to be reminded. That I am made of skin and bone and that I love you.
Love letter # 225
And in the evening, when you are like the beauty of the dusk, I walk in your pale glory and lift up mine eyes to you. And there I see the wonder; and am overflowing.
And at the sign of your arrival; and at the sound of your breathing … there I feel the tides arising; as though you were the moon above and I was the acquiescent sea.
And when I hear your voice, such is its song that I am compelled to sing it afresh; so that I might say what you have said and feel your very words become me.
If I have walked the path that you have walked, if I have knelt beside you, then I am the child of fortune … for in the very form of you I am blessed.
Love letter # 303
You are the golden light. I am simply shined upon. You are the mist in the morning. I am the hill that you swathe. You are the rain falling warmly. I am the river you made. And we are the sea and the sky … and the earth and the stars … and all time.
Love letter # 249
Today I saw something amazing. Something I never thought I’d see again. Something in you. The smoke in your eyes. The yearning. Setting off a trigger in me.
Love letter # 276
How easily the bluff and bravado of man is undone by the scent of flowers. Flowers on your skin. Petals on your dress. The bloom you send through me. Even all my treasures I would give for this. Even all my fear. For the flower of your sweetness – all the masks are shattered. All the armour too frail. I walk beside you and am nothing but what I am.
Love letter # 176
In the warmth I can smell you on my skin. In the cold I can feel your breath. When it’s dark I can see your stars and in the daylight I bask in your life affirming light. You are in the expanse and in the smallness. You are in the dance and in the quietness. And though I am afloat in your great sea I am like the island where you dwell – the point that speaks of waves – the one that evokes the other. You are both my completion and my dissolution. My transcendence and my grounding. I feel your river in my blood and your body next to mine. We are like one sometimes – but also like zero. This is how I know.
Love letter # 126
I thought I had it boxed. Funny how the slightest touch can bring the whole castle crashing. You only had to smile.
Love letter # 162
What did I do before you? I don’t know. What on earth was I filling my time with? Just stuff, it seems. Distractions. Noise. I thought I was so smart, so cool, so together. It was all vanity. Not worthless entirely – but nothing like now.
I knew, on the night we kissed, exactly what I had been missing. When I loved you I was transformed. An empty space filled, like light on the walls of a once black cell. Your touch illuminated me – made the whole world glow.
You helped me remake everything – turn sound into song, days into joy. The temple of my hubris fell down and in its place the beautiful humility of surrender, the sheer and tender wonder of blessed mortality.
What I have found by your side is as ancient and fleeting as the earth itself. It is the eternal two count of death and renewal, creation and extinction. It is both the letting go and the receiving, the gift and the giving.
Now that I have breathed it in, felt it under my skin, there is no going back. The windows have been opened, the doors taken off of their hinges – and this house can never be closed off again.
Love letter # 86
I climbed the misty hill to feel your rain about my shoulders. You settled gently on my skin.
I walked along the forest floor to hear the sound of your life around me. It filled me up with song.
I was tempted by the fruit you grew. When I bit your sugars flowed.
I swam in the river running through you. I am cleaner now.
I slept under the stars you burn. And you woke me just now with your light.
Love letter # 87
I will stop typing in a minute – but I will not sleep. I will flee instead to the quiet, dark streets, to the unbroken glass of the sea. And I will love you. And it will feel like a channel – like noun become verb – and I will cease to be and only light will shine.
To anyone looking it will seem like sadness.
But to me it will be as it is now.
Love letter # 183
I walked in the splendid shadows just to be with you. I learned the songs of the seraphim just to hear you sing. And I swam in the silken sea so as to have your arms about me. When I feel that you are not with me I look again and realise that you are everywhere. In everything beautiful – for it is because of you that I have come to see these things. The wonders of the world are but the sounding of your name. Yet you did nothing to make this be – only let me love you.
Love letter # 169
So much beauty out there tonight. Almost unbearable. But it reminded me – as if I needed reminding – that whatever gift it is I possess, it is also my cross – and the demon that shadows me is the same angel sent to save me. How grateful I am to be shown this; and for my usual blindness and conceit to be transformed, if only briefly, into calmness, compassion … and my never ending love for you.
Love letter # 88
Last night it rained like sorrow. Today the air is thick, every drenched flower sweet with scent. I move through the humid light and – wouldn’t you know it – all I see is you. I carry you in my thoughts like a half remembered song and I find that I still move in time.
You are out there somewhere – but also still here. Not so much a ghost as a deliverance. When I love you the whole world is transformed – the ordinary magnificent – the simple exquisite. Everything soaked in wonder.
Last night it rained like sorrow. Today it glistens like beauty.
Love letter # 196
You are like the connectedness of things – the invisible strings – the wideness of plains and the coolness of air – time stretched out like a ribbon of stars. I walk in your aura. I listen to your awesome quietness. Your breathing makes my heart beat.
I am the blessed one – loving you like this. It lets me be the oneness of things; lets your river run through me. And you are never more than falling sky away. No further than tides. When I feel like this there is no space between us, no time apart.
I remind myself of this when I am alone – when I am questioning – and all the knots dissolve and a kind of music plays. And whenever I hear that song, you are here beside me and I am like love itself. Radiating.
Love letter # 163
Tonight, on my walk, I conjured you up; the light, the music, the softening air. It was like your touch, your soft hand on my arm, finger extended. You were on my skin again. Delicious.
I swear you were walking with me tonight and we were in our bliss. Everything perfect once more. Still you and me. That wonderful fire between us. That dance we once danced.
Now my body is the store of that treasure – and you are never far away.
That star we gave birth to – it still blazes in the sky. I see it when it’s dark outside and the clouds have blown away.
Love letter # 254
The luscious first night of warm rain – everything glistening, the music from bars, the couples. Random pieces of song, temporary, like insects of sound. And somehow the air is sweet. I’m nearly drunk on breathing. Makes me think of you.
Love letter # 186
There are things we can never know – but there is no doubt now. Tomorrow, next week, whenever – I can’t tell you anything about them. Only now.
You are like the light after rain – you make everything glow. Your beauty transforms the world. This is how I love you. Today.
I won’t pretend to mean what I cannot know – but I sing for what you bring. It is a dance when you are around. We are like children, still playing. Making up the rules.
But there is nothing else we need to invent – just this.
Love letter # 60
Once upon a time, the world was entirely imagined, a perfect orb spinning, a narrative unfolding. Beginning, middle, end. Such a neat cosmos. A little cold perhaps – but safe – and in this theoretical realm I hovered … untouched. There was a time when it was always going to be that way. The time before you.
Now there is a new world. A world of weather. Of dust. Of wonderful decay. A planet on which, by some inexplicable miracle, you are walking next to me. I abandoned the unblemished spheres for the rough cut stones you hurled through my windows. On crunching glass I was cut – and all the newly trickling blood tasted of your urgency.
I am alive at last in the imperfect rooms we share, where the creaking boards and leaking fixtures make space for us. I love your blemished grin, your faintly textured skin. By the light that comes from you I can finally see the wonder of the world. It is the beautiful ruin of ideals, the grave of perfection – the damp, smelling ground of love. This earth we walk upon.
And your hand in mine – so real.
Love letter # 139
Today of all days. I should have known better; but I turned over that page and there you were – sudden brightness. Like a massive tide – and me floating. And everything. Absolutely everything. Until there was the light alone. And a silence like resting. And all because you let me love you.
Love letter # 180
In the silence it’s all too obvious. There’s only noise between us and the quiet. And all these little scrawls that make letters, that turn themselves into words – they are nought but scratching.
Yet still we keep saying I love you. Still we keep making those sounds. We may know its folly; just some invention. Yeah – some invention. How could I not surrender? How could I not bathe in the light?
I decide to love you – but I love that you let me.
Love letter # 130
There was a time when I looked to the sky for fireworks. Now I look at you. You are where the stars burst. This is how my nights are coloured. The angels can stop their singing, the bells cease ringing – you are here beside me, where even oceans come to heel. If I once knelt for miracles, now I kneel for you. In your skin; the sum of all things. All beauty in your lovely hands. And me, the lucky fool, stumbling into you.
Love letter # 109
You of the light, shine beautifully on me. For by the light of you – I am shot through. I am made of the stars you burn. And we are but vapour together.
Love letter # 131
I came down in the rain to make this garden bloom for you. I swam across the sea to walk in this desert with you. I fell from the sky to stand beside you in the mountain air. I travelled through the terrors of time to be here now.
Whatever dream I woke from, you were what I found.
Did I have reason? Maybe. I don’t know anymore. It matters not; because now you are here. You hold my breath, you open my eyes, you are like the fire in my blood.
In the moment when I am overwhelmed by you I am uplifted. I surrender to be free. I crawl to be exalted. If there is a temple, it is this. It is the kiss you give me.
You have made dust out of my kingdom, stones out of my glory. You took my conceit and made it into love. Once there was a tower – now there is a song.
I came back from the dark to live in your light. I threw out the jewels to live in your treasure. And there is nothing so simple as this. Just you … and the air we both breath.
You might whisper – but I will always hear it.
Love letter # 391
We can never be sure – but we can still love it. Who cares about all the criteria? Aren’t we here now? Tomorrow will deal with tomorrow. We can just deal with the night.
Love letter # 167
I hesitate to make promises, even though I want to. I’d like to say I’ll be the best but I know I won’t. I wish I had the strength to be constant but I’m as weak as anyone who ever told a lie. I could fluke perfection for a moment – maybe a day or two – but that sheen will surely soon be smeared.
Instead, I can try to love you every day. I can give what I have to give – a little more perhaps. I can let you be you – and like it that way. I can notice when it hurts.
I may not always speak your language, nor always listen, but even the stupidest of my blunders will spring from this tenderness I have right here.
Sometimes there will be a flood, sometimes a fire. One day everything will flow, the next be dammed. But a day is not forever and a careless word is not a curse. When all my ill thought out, impulsive irrationality has crashed like the wave, all the little shells left scattered will have pearls inside.
My love may always be flawed but never, ever false. This much I can say.
Love letter # 606
It’s like I’m someone else; someone alive.
For years I lived in detachment, never really feeling. Now I am the thin skin of an ocean, my public face a meniscus – a taut thread holding back the wonderful overwhelming flood you let loose in me.
I never used to cry because nothing mattered enough. Tonight I am a waterfall.
I have lost control of control. I have surrendered and it is the most beautiful, empowering thing ever. I give in to you – every time – and on each occasion I find myself flying.
Everything else is a construct – part way to a lie. Vanity.
But this electric, this light, this feeling that borders on evaporation … this is how it all melts away.
And there is nothing left – just the rain and the rivers and the vast and welcoming sea.
Love letter # 245
I’m prepared to believe there’s starshine in your eyes – not because there is but because it makes me high to think so. I get a rush when I think you’re wonderful. My heart is alive when it belts out your name. And then when you touch me … The truth may well be out there but it doesn’t hold a candle to the fire in here.
Love letter # 707
There was sun and sky,
There was blood and moon,
There were locked up doors …
And empty rooms.
There were days and nights
I was deaf and blind
There was too much sound …
Then there was you
And it’s quiet now …
Love letter # 151
I thought about why I love you. Simple. The child in me meets the child in you. And we play. Even with fire.
Love letter # 166
When I walked you home last night I felt like I was flying. And when I lingered on your step I felt like praying to someone. And then your hand reached out and then … If I leave this note on your bedside, you will surely know – as I do.
Love letter # 486
It’s like this; you walk around a corner and there it is – just like it’s always been there. Maybe you overlooked it before; perhaps you were just too busy. I mean, we all get distracted.
Then, like some flower in the garden you never gave much thought to, you are caught up in the sudden beauty of it all. You have no time to prepare a defence because now there are lovely arms around you. Now your head is full of song. Is not the heart the abruptest of organs?
You know what I’m going to say next: that you have burst into my life with serendipitous speed. I know I could stop to question it, to pick it all apart, but I’m not going to. This time I’ll go with it.
Here … this is me jumping. This is me flying. With you. Surprising, wonderful you.
Love letter # 189
I’ve been crying. Not sad. Overwhelming. Just thinking of you.
I had a foolish dream, you see: me cooking you dinner, singing that corny song we both love out loud. Wringing the juice out of it. Making it sigh. Making the sun shine for both of us. Our little heaven. Your unbelievable beauty. My incredible luck.
Oh God, hear it comes again – that tide of euphoria. And these tears will clean the grime out of me. Make me good for you.
The gift you give me is that you let me give to you. You say yes to the flood – and in that rush I will likely drown. And somewhere in this lovely sea, just below the surface, where the light is unbearably beautiful, I am floating next to you.
Love letter # 46
When you walk in the golden light, all is beauty. And when I touch your skin …
When you breathe the cool sweet air, when you catch the half heard song, when you shiver softly … this is how I know you’re near.
If your love undoes you, if the fences fall – then you are ready. And if we walk in light, and if you hold me, gorgeous … what else is there?
Everything is made of light – and when I’m with you, even darkness shines. And where your fingers trace a line …
Love letter # 36
All I want is what everyone wants – to love and be loved. To be near you. And when I say I love you, I mean there isn’t anyone I’d rather be with. I cannot know how long I’ll be here – but all the while I am and whatever there is of life, let me share it you. Beautiful you.
Love letter # 250
I hear your song everywhere. It sings beneath the fray. It hovers behind the unending clamour – like memory – waiting to be dislodged. It is the rhythm of breath; so often unnoticed. It is the subtle scent of the ground, trampled by the hectic air. It is always there.
Somehow, you are inside me. By some magic I have yet to fully fathom, this blood is also yours. You run like a river, wild beneath my skin – and I am a pebble rolling. But as long as I end up in the ocean with you …
As long I am near enough for whispers. As long as I can hear you sing.
Love letter # 227
The scientists tell us that it’s just a chemical tide, an evolutionary trigger. I don’t doubt it … but it doesn’t feel like that right now.
If there is no such thing as a song, why am I singing?
I am prepared to accept that this buzz is a rush of hormones, that this sudden colour is a simple trick of light … but if this is just genetics – praise the biology. What a wonderful dumb thing this is; how I am starving for surrender.
The truth is irrelevant – your skin is everything.
Love letter # 43
I sit here – the sea a mirror blue, sky like a primed canvas, cool air settling like a blanket of feathers. It’s perfect. And what do I think of?
So I reach for phone, dial the number with your name on it, just about crumble when you answer. My nerve vanishes – small talk replacing intention. I imagine you, wherever you are, the light shining out of you. We chat, we laugh, we say see ya later … but here’s what I really wanted to say.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Love letter # 29
My empire? It was a mere exhalation. A sound I made sometimes. It added up to not much. When you kicked down the walls of my castle you let me loose. I became a child again, naked without masks, running without chains. I felt like the air. And you were flying with me, beautiful one … How ‘bout that.
Love letter # 145
Only when I gave in to you was I was liberated. Only when I let you in was I warm inside. Only as my heart was breaking was I truly mended.
You have brought the stars to light – and you are the colour of spring. I knew nothing of the sea until I drowned in you – and all the old maps were out of date. You re-drew the world. It’s a much better place now – and I am glad to be in it with you.
Love letter # 16
If the world is a jarring crash – you are the silence. If my heart is a clamouring fool – you are the graceful stillness. If the night is a fearsome dark – you are the light that shines.
When all the little details blur, when words devolve to sound, when breath is what is left – it is you, my love. Always you.
You are why I’m here. You are the reason for singing.
I am but a dancer – you are the song.
No matter what.
No matter what.
Love letter # 14
You the light – me the moth – fluttering around you.
You the night – me the lost – safe inside you.
Me the desert – you the rain – flower maker.
Me the walls – you the doors – gaol breaker.
We the vessels – we the drowners …
… This the sacred sea.
Love letter # 96
A thousand million men would surely say the same thing for the right girl; it just so happens I’m saying it for you. I’m not the remarkable one – you are. I just had the good sense to be amazed by you.
Love letter # 47
Sometimes there is a knife in me – and it cuts so beautifully. The rush of blood that follows is heady – like a delirious tide … and everything is pure yearning. This is how I feel tonight – wanting you so – aching like madness. Right now, I am a light source loving you. I am the river inexorable, sinewy, snaking my way to your sea. Once I was a mere drop of rain – now I am a part of your splendour. I love you. That is all.
Love letter # 6
I’m writing this to say one simple thing. It’s you I’d choose.
Love letter # 82
If ever I have cause to doubt – and God knows I do – I only have to hear your voice. Why is it that the mere fact of your calling erases all pretence? I like to think I have resistance – but no. One minute of you and a veritable river of light runs through me – something like what I imagine electricity to be. Something like the space between breaths. And my cool adopted language cannot explain away the fire. And the flame? Babe, you know it never lies.
And The Angels Love The Broken Best Of All
I don’t know whose story this is. It could be mine. It could belong to us all. Maybe there’s some sublime universal screenplay out there and we’re all acting from it, adding our little bits but never changing a thing. Maybe everything is written.
Doesn’t feel like it though.
There are times when the whole world feels like I made it up – especially since there was you. Surely no such creature could ever be real.
When you looked at me that way – and I believed in you – it was a beautiful light. It made the pavements look lovely.
And even though I knew it was impossible – I preferred it to the truth. Don’t we all?
I would rather wander in the desert with you – dying of thirst – than follow the roads alone.
You can be a bitch – you can be a liar – you can be just like me …
We can be imperfect – we can be impure – we can be free.
The beggars are the kings. The fools are the wise. The lost are the found.
And the hungry shall be fed.
And all because of you.
[This letter is an extract from a dance theatre piece called ‘An Incomplete Map of Desire]
Nothing That A Fire
When I first met you – you were so bright I had to shield my eyes. I’d like to say you were blinding, except I was already blind.
I only learnt to see in order to look at you.
I knew it was mad – but I was mad enough to want it. And anyway, what was I leaving behind? Blandness. Trinkets. Nothing that a fire wouldn’t burn.
And surrender – how liberating it was.
For a while I was flying. We were flying. It was everything.
I adored you. Even gravity couldn’t bring me down.
If I have fallen from the sky, it is because I once dwelt in the clouds with you.
[This letter is an extract from a dance theatre piece called ‘An Incomplete Map of Desire]
Love letter # 25
I wear your name above my heart. It’s right here, under my shirt, unhealed ridges. That one syllable. I run my fingers across its texture; it’s almost like touching you.
People say forget her – but how can I? I never knew anything so wonderful as the warmth of your proximity. I never heard a song more moving than your whispers. There was never anything better than the slow, slow way we made love.
Your name is a synonym now – I say it quietly to myself when I want to feel the fire. And when that shiver passes through me I am more alive.
I love you as I said I would – because it makes me better – because it is my honour to do so. I understand that you will never say the same of me but I do not love you for what I can get.
I love you just because.
Love letter … 0
Nothing lasts. Not these walls. Not these things that fill my house. Not these victories that I think I’ve won. Even the wonder of spring. Even the stars. Maybe even time itself.
Only my love for you.
Everything breaks; most notably my heart – which seems at any moment ready to burst into flames. Everything stops … yes, even my breathing.
Only my love for you.
How beautiful things are. How wondrous this passing. What joy these ruins. There is no sorrow here, no shred of regret.
Only my love for you.
Love letter # 61
When I saw you last night … God, I was breathless. I tried to hide it but I was trembling. Not in a bad way but with a kind of gentle, almost tidal wonder. And when you let me hold you, it felt like light in my veins.
When I walked back home through the darkened streets afterwards it shocked me to realise that I would stand in the line of fire for you – that it was you I would save from the storm. And I felt humble and alive.
When you called me this morning I nearly burst; everything hidden unveiled, all the dark parts illuminated. It was a kind of cleansing. And I flowed into the sound of your voice and all the awful hours dissolved.
When I said I loved you all those months ago this is what I meant – this is the promise I made.
As long as the blood is scarlet I would sooner bleed.
Love letter # 75
This won’t be much of a love letter because my words are fast turning to sound.
Just as the smallness of sky becomes the vastness of space, so too this light inside me – so too this beauty you made. Now it will not be contained in a sentence. Now it is shining.
In my head, the nouns and verbs are being subsumed. In my heart, all other details have turned to brilliance. There is nothing left but this. This is the absolute emptiness; and everything is here.
Most importantly you.
Love letter # 68
We are not here forever. We are like the rush that is over as soon as it starts. It may even be that we vanish without trace, our passing unnoticed, our glories unremembered. Yet what little I am given I will gladly share with you.
All these kingdoms we have wrenched from the dust – they will be dust once more. Even history will disappear. But if I could wake up next to you, if your kiss could be mine …
For if in the grand scheme of things my life is close to nothing then let me spend it all with you. Eternity may have its blind dominion but in the meantime I will have eyes for you.
Love letter # 30
It’s easy to feel alone in the world; it’s almost the default position. But once in a while someone gets it. Not just in their head but in their blood – as though you shared a solitary heart. The beats mixed perfect. It’s rare; but it happened all the time with you.
People who have known me for years never got so close. How is that? All their loyalty and friendship and you cut through it with a lazy twirl of your slender wrist, with a tiny little scratch. A single sideways glance was all it took. One whispered request.
We went outside. I could hear your breathing. I looked across at you and I knew.
Love letter # 91
I love it even when you just talk to me. I love it that you pass by. I love the air in the room that’s had you in it. I love the thought that you might think of me. I love the dream that lets me see you.
Love letter # 92
These words are leftovers – barely shells – remainders – for it is the light I bathe in, the tide that takes me.
To love is to breathe – for love is the beautiful verb. The instant eternal. Walking next to you, I stumble gladly upon that twin infinity. Lucky, lucky pilgrim.
Now I have only speech for such miracles. So in my meagre tongue all I need is … I love you, I love you, I love you.
Love letter # 69
All the usual things got said – it won’t last, that feeling will fade – but here I am … loving you even more.
It’s the little cracks in your act, the chinks in your armour, that little grumpy thing you do sometimes … these and other imperfections are the very structure of your beauty.
If this is the so called sickness, long may I suffer. I’m sure that the world is made of harder facts but I have chosen this instead.
When all these rusty marks appear and the shine seems set to dim, I will dive beneath the line to love the deeper you.
And if you would honour me by letting all this madness flow, how wonderfully crazy we could be. It would be like light – it would seem like song.
Love letter # 79
Before you, I existed in complete and utter selfishness. For a moment, it seemed like I was alive. But life is more than feeding – it’s giving.
And what is it you give to me? Permission to love.
You are the cloud that says rain. You are the ocean that says swim. You are the song being sung. I am the dancer flying round the room.
Before you, my heart was a mere valve. Now it is a fountain. Now it is a star pouring light. Everything has changed – and I would not have it any other way.
The day is a temple, the night is a shrine. All this because I give to you – because it flows through me. I am not the keeper of love – only its humble typist.
You are the bell, I am the ringing. Together we herald the dawn.
Love letter # 95
Sometimes – the rain is just so … A mellifluous fat bellied mist. Like angel pearls parachuting. Almost too beautiful. Like you.
Love letter # 72
And now … calm. The great quietness of aftermath. You and me not talking. Yet still you are the sun. Still you are the evening, the soft relief of closure. And your name is the in breath; the automatic motion of life. I love you without wanting. I want you without requiring. How I wish I could wake up beside you; although of course I won’t. Yet still I give warmth to the cold side of the bed, for there will always be a hearth for you, a light flickering, a room in the corner of the world. We may pay no heed but the gods sigh regardless – because we are the beaten up stars. We are the eternal broken down. Or rather, we were. Now we’re just islands – and the sea is our union. With my love I send you little waves. You might look for jewels in the sand. You may know where they came from. That’s not the point. I once loved you for the echo – now I just love you … now I just love you.
Love letter # 66
There is a door through beauty to something wonderful. Go on – open it.
See, the world is even more beautiful now – and all because we said so.
When you live in the realm of the beautiful you break bread with angels.
We are blessed creatures, you and I; we who are nothing and everything.
And lover … you sure made me better. And I … I just opened my eyes – and beheld.
Love letter # 33
The lovers are the kings, the lonely are the cherished, the forgotten are the exalted. And the beggars shall live in the palace; and the mighty dwell amongst the ashes. And then the angels will walk with the fallen – the proof being you.
I do not know why you are down here with me – but you are – and I am uplifted. My dirty heart is clean in your hands; my rusted chains are gold. These rags; they are silk. This cell; it is liberty. And out of this silence; song.
When there is love in the world, hunger itself is plenty and the darkness is strewn with light. Where love makes its house, there are no slaves. And then, even the broken will see beauty once more – the proof being me.
Love letter # 76
There was a moment; that second when you … and in that beat my fear turned to brightness, my resolve gave way to keening. You cut the brake lines. You sent me shooting through space.
I was a willing sucker. I wanted it. I sang for the rushing of blood. I begged for the horses to be set free. I called forth the wildness – and that’s where you stepped in.
You are the untamed ocean. You are the promise of rain. I was a desert, thirsty for the return of the sky.
You fed me a flood. I duly drowned.
In the resulting sea of flowers I call out your name, a dazed croak in the vastness. It is said that in the middle of nowhere a single voice cannot be heard – but that won’t stop me.
I used to believe I knew music – now I’m a dancer. That no one else is watching is no reason to sit down. Even now … I still fly through the air for you.
Love letter # 81
I know it shouldn’t – but the thought of you still bursts me open.
Officially I’m over it – it’s on the public record. I shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. I should have sweated you out by now. So why am I here again – writing it down in this ridiculous fashion?
It’s greedy of me really – blurting it out like this. If only it wasn’t singing inside me, making me swoon, literally taking my breath away. I try to hold down the tide with sensible thoughts, with those thousand and one damn reasons, but still I flock to the well.
I wonder sometimes if this is poison. Or inspiration. I have never felt so naked. Or divine.
To be humbled by love is to be open to life. All my old masks – they are unwearable now. Today I am barefoot and glad of the ground. Maybe I don’t have so far to fall now.
Perhaps without meaning to you have set me free. That fire you lit – it made ashes of my pretence but left the truth outstanding. Thank you.
Love letter # 62
Someone asked me what it was like and all I could think to say was: we slept in the sky.
I know that every lover thinks that but that doesn’t make it shine any less. Our adventures were ordinary but they were wonderful. We drank; we sang along, we made love outside. We stalked the wee hours – they were ours. We saw the dawn together and ignored the rest of the world.
Every couple has their golden age. Ours was just another. And now …
I know, you’re expecting me say ‘tired’, ‘bored’, ‘going through the motions’. Hell no. Now we can have something much richer than romance. We can have wine. We can have the rest of time.
Let’s not surrender – except to each other. Be next to me, my beautiful love and I will be next to you.
And then even when it’s cloudy, we can still wake in stars.
Love letter # 77
Because of you – all of this.
I know – ridiculous. I shudder when I hear myself think it but here I am saying it out loud. All for you.
Previous reasons – they were vanity. Ego seeking itself.
Now that I love you the whole world is transformed – and beauty is the temple of you. Here I am, knowing more than myself at last, afraid and exhilarated, washed clean and re-dressed.
Yesterday I walked in the desert, thirsty and not even knowing it. Today I am here with you. This time the mirage kept its promise – and I am almost drunk for drinking.
I used beg for love – now I give it freely.
Everything – all my art, all my striving, every beautiful thing I try to make – they are all born of my love.
The old me would have laughed – but he’s not me anymore. Yes, I understand his objections – but yes, yes, yes my love … I do.
Love letter # 15
It started with a fire. A fire in my heart. And all my smart tricks turned to ash. I thought I was the king of everything – and then there was you – beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel.
And now I am breathless. Now I am a feather on the breeze. Now I am the dancer – and you the song, you the sound of wonder. Even on my knees I am flying.
Tonight I walked in luminous golden vespers, in velvet evening. With my music. With my dreams of you, my love. And when it rained, I danced between the droplets – as though to hold you in my arms.
In the soft kiss of evening I felt you beside me; I could almost smell you. Your feminine power made my poor boy blood thicken. If there is a god – she is a goddess.
All that male arrogance – my so called vision of things – my pristine ordered cosmos – its stones are strewn about.
I walk now in a lovely desert of cinders, where detail melts to heat, where horizons blur the boundaries. In this smudged terror, in this new cathedral – oh my beauty, you are the queen. These tears are but jewels. Euphoria is despair.
When I love you I am without sin. When I love you everything is in sync. So what if there’s a cut or five. A little blood on the lino. Damn the cowards. What do they know?
If there is a wall, it is folly. Reduce the streets to scratches. Make nothing that is not made of love.
And now … I type. Splendour into syllables. Words in semi darkness. I have no idea where you are other than in my heart. I dance my half of our dance because it is still wonderful.
Here in the golden light – here in the golden light … your breath on my neck – your kisses sweet.
But before you click away from this; I know I this seems unhinged. I still have those Western eyes. Two and a half years ago I too would have scoffed.
I know better now.
Love letter # 21
Heaven is made up of ordinary treasures – like your breathing as you sleep next to me – like the scent of you in the darkness.
You are the one.
This must be what miracles are – under this roof with you. I feel the warmth of your skin – your nearness like opium. I can scarcely believe it.
You are the one.
I came here to shiver – to surrender – to wake up in your presence. I am the lucky one.
And you are the one.
Love letter # 101
How could I have known that my ten o’clock would turn out to be you.
I had no defences deployed – no armour against eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for your gorgeous mouth, the curve of your shoulders, the hint of freshly showered skin. Now I’m butterflies.
Or perhaps I’m just an overly optimistic angler, misinterpreting tugs as bites. Maybe you’re like this with everyone.
I’ve been around long enough to have no idea.
I look at the scar lines etched all over me and I wonder if I can bear another. I wonder if no is worth the chance of yes. Or vice versa.
I have your number. I could call you this minute. I’m sure I could invent a pretext.
Ah, but the sensible adult thing would be to do nothing; to mark it down to the enervating effects of spring sunshine and good coffee. Safer that way. I walk off with a little caffeinated buzz on – maybe catch you in the course of things and see if those opal eyes are still flashing lovely fire at me.
Either way, beauty is transforming and you have changed my day – probably my week. In all likelihood these syllables will vanish into meek but totally mature silence and neither of us will ever have to be embarrassed.
But just in case …
Love letter # 5
The afternoon light at this time of year – it is the colour of your splendour.
Like rattling up the hill in the old train, waiting outside for your flatmate to leave. Sneaking in. Springtime on the back porch. You right there. Me scarcely able to believe it.
Every year the flowers make me sneeze. Make me swoon.
Was that ever us? Beggars living on sunlight. Did you lie in the middle of the road and let me photograph you? Were you my star?
I remember your bare, painted toes. I can almost hear the sound of your blinking. Somewhere on my skin your fingertip traces – writing out the story; words like lovely scars. Memory is a curious calligrapher. I’m sure it exaggerates – but God it’s beautiful.
And then, when I play my guitar, I swear I can hear the sound of you dancing along, your breath in rhythm. Yes – you are the song of desire. Always will be.
There will never not be you – no matter how it seems. Winter is no refusal of spring.
I know that we once made beauty together – we still can. Tomorrow is ours to render splendid.
Would you like that?
Love letter # 7
… and in a blinding, beautiful flash – you.
You have changed me. Perhaps you did not mean to – but you have. Not that I was bad before – just a fool who knew nothing. Now at least I am a fool who knows you.
Everything is clear now – if a little raw. The light is sharp sometimes. The heights are airless. And flying always contains the lure of falling. But those who will not fly are grounded. They have the dirt and nothing more.
Even if I am left with only the memory of you it will be a good deal more than old rock. For sure, it will be diamonds.