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 # 475
Overwhelmed, almost crushed, by the sheer breathtaking beauty of things. The salty air. Damp earth. The warmth of your arms around me.
Again I am halted, paused in thankful reflection – grateful to whatever gods, angels or blind mechanical confluences brought me to this viewpoint. From here, through the tiny portal of my consciousness, I am able to glimpse something of the eternal. Not simply to behold it as dry fact but to experience it as beautiful.
Because it is the simple and extraordinary fact of your beauty that alerts me to your existence and, in that, confirms the miracle of mine. Science tells me I am a slave of process – but your glory sets me free.
For with your voice I sing – and in your form I dance in time. Yours is the tongue of the answered prayer – yours the hands that write out the verse. And when everything is shining and wonderful, it is with your eyes I see.
You have transformed the world and I shall ever love you for it.
Love letter # 402
Was this how it was?
When we were together they could never hurt us. In our world there was no language – simply recognition. The song that played deep inside your heart was singing its heart out in mine.
Was that it – or did I make it up? Now I’ll never know. Just believe.
For by believing I can feel those arms around me. Sense that magic on the surface of my skin – little bumps, hairs on end. As though time had not flown. Doors not closed.
It may be a delusion – but what a gorgeous mirage to thirst for.
Here in the desert, I dream of flowers. Close my eyes and smell them. And in the ordinary walk of life, I am only ever a thought of you away from the presence of wonder – and therefore transformed.
Because, at the nearing of the hour, it will be joys such as these I shall ponder – and they shall fill the void with beauty. As you once did.
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 # 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 # 368
Once we had that classic thing; you know how it goes – you and me against the world. Sure it was a delusion but at the time it was the most powerful and wonderful thing there was. I felt as though somebody, at last, got me. That quirky take on things that was mine – it was yours too. Together we were everything.
Now, when I look back, I am tempted to see the ashes of dreams – but I always stop myself. For that dream is alive. It lingers in the crease of your smile. In the way you look at me. In the arch of an eyebrow. These days we only have it in brief fits. Yet we still have it.
I try to remember this when we’re fighting.