We swirl in a storm of confusion. Our lives bring us to places that challenge us, that make us whole, then break us, then assemble us back into vessels misshapen to our past. Sometimes we barely recognize the twisted version we see of ourselves. Sometimes, that is a good thing.
There are times we meet people. People who remind us of the great love that exists everywhere. People who inspire us, who bring out the parts of us long hidden, who see these misshapen vessels as wonderful works of art.
We want to be inside these people. We want to feel them inside us. We want to press their flesh, taste their souls, and see ourselves in the twinkle of their eye. We want to fantasize with them, creates amazing stories of wonders within a book all our own, and never, ever, stifle their amazing growth.
They are our lovers, the few great souls we find a connection with. For some, there is only one. For others, there is a great abundance of lovers for which there is never an end. There are no wrong answers in love’s sweet moment. Somehow, it all makes sense to the heart.
For me, there is you. For me, there is nothing else quite the same.
You are my clarity.
There are the stories of making love by the orange flicker of a fragile flame near the stainless steel gateway to heaven. We’ve shared the sacraments of our passion upon the altars of our dreams and the fabled sutras that gave us hope. We’ve torn at flesh and fantasy with equal vigor until there was nothing left in our bodies but the very thing that brought us together.
There are those moments of great despair, when the pieces just would not fit. The gods conspired, throwing stones in our path, and creating disarray out of harmony. The breezes of circumstance mixed the great colors of our mandala, and the rains muddied the great lakes on which we sailed. We were beaten, lost to the ages, yet in the miracle of time we gaze at one another from separate summits, alone save the very thing that brought us together.
The very thing that brought us together. The stiller of great waves, the calmness of massive storms. The great soprano in a chorus of tone-deaf voices. The wisdom. The truth. The clarity.
So alone, yet together, we stand, worlds apart but in some kind of harmony. We throw veils on our truth, yet it is always there. We hide our eyes from its light, yet feel the burning on our skin. We shield ourselves from its driving rain, yet feel the wetness soak us to the bone. We cannot run from it, and it will always chase us down until, finally, we allow it to breathe.
That is the greatest story of our lives hidden nicely in a myriad of other great tales. We feel it in our children, in our passion, and in our moments of unbridled glory. We seek in our darkness, in our helplessness, and in the deepness of mindless despair. It is our destiny from the moment we were conceived. It is our inescapable fate.
I’ve surrendered to such a thing. I feel it every morning in thoughts of you, and every evening when I tell the ether I love you. I feel it in the memories, in the promises, in the endings we so often cling to. In my moment I realize it isn’t the end I need grasp, but the beginning. That’s where the promise is, where the forsaken moments of memory allow us great hope. It’s where we find great clarity even if the waters were muddied by the whims of gods and fools.
I will forever love you. When I die I want you to tell the world great stories, and share with angels and demons the truth of a life well shared. I want to share with you the snowy peaks and clear glacial streams that wash winter’s dust from our flesh. I want to make love to you with reckless abandon in the middle of a great forest, and laugh as we howl at the moon together. I want to hold you down in the mud as you dig into my skin, reminding you that every winter thaws, and every spring renews.
Then, we will have clarity. Truth. Uncompromising dedication to the path we have set upon together. We will have each other.