In Love…

You know you are in love when the words simply fail to form, when they fail to describe the way things are. As a writer, that provides me with such a dilemma. Emotions that I once could easily describe have become indescribable. Feelings that once flowed effortlessly onto a page now are difficult to transcribe. Everything is so very, very different.

I’m fortunate. I feel such a thing. I twirl around in a state of bliss, approaching this life with a power that such a certain truth provides. I want to tell you about it, but it’s not some easy task. I want to paint a picture for you but no color or brush seems adequate.  My palette has certainly not run dry, but it surely does not seem bright enough to share. It pales in comparison to what I see, what I feel, and what I know to be true.

It would be easy to say that what was once formless in the mist has now taken shape. It’s true, the one I felt in the fog I now caress in the sunlight. It’s accurate to say that the one I’ve always felt walking within me is now walking beside me. It’s honest to say that the love I’d always desired is now suddenly wrapped in a beautiful woman who loves me just as much.

Yet, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. There’s so much more.

How does one accurately describe the cascading waves that overcome me when I look at her?  Waves that are a mixture of desire and admiration, of need and want, of pure selfishness wrapped in absolute selflessness surely escape description. Waves of powerful energy that envelop me, take me away while firmly rooting me in the place we share find words so unworthy.

How can a mere man offer words of truth when swimming in pool of ecstasy? How can I describe the weakened-but-strangely-empowered knees when I bite her lower lip, when I feel her reach for me as the dawn breaks? Maybe the sigh that escapes my soul at the thought of her, when she tells me her little secrets, or shows me a once-hidden part of herself is the best description I can offer.

Perhaps a sigh is all I need. Perhaps that is a billion words crammed into one sound. Perhaps a sigh is the “OM” of lovers, of Beings so completely familiar with one another that nothing matters but their truth, a truth that says, “you need never walk alone again.”

Those Who Dance Are Considered Insane by Those Who Can’t Hear the Music ~Friedrich Nietzsche

To some this is an alien existence. They watch a clock and hear it ticking, never knowing how those who know can be so certain. They see the past and live there, never giving the present its due. They hold firm to ideas that have never worked, that have failed over and over again. Mostly, they are in such amazement as to create a sense of denial. They never quite get it, and we are under no obligation to explain it to them.

We just dance in the rain. To our own song, our own beat, our own complete bliss. Your joining us is always welcome, but your attendance is never required.  We can’t describe it to you, the words will fail us. All we can do is ask that you sit in stillness and watch, and then you will understand. Or consider us insane.

That’s us. In love. Utterly unable to tell you about it, completely devoid of words that can make sense of what we’ve found. We know we are right where we need to be, and we feel exactly what we’ve always wanted to feel. We are going to shock you, no doubt. You may shake your head in our direction. Enjoy that. You may, however, find something valuable if you really want to look, something you can’t describe in the love you see, in the love you feel. You may find something that you never want to let go of either, even if you never really need to grasp it.

You’ll smile, just like we do. You’ll laugh and you’ll gasp in ecstasy just like we do. Mostly, though, you’ll dance just like we do, and you’ll notice the nonbelievers with their shaking heads and pointless advice and you will hear nothing but the music they can’t. You’ll grab your lover and growl, and she’ll understand exactly what that means.

Yes, I’m in love. With her. And I’m dancing.




photo by: Dino ahmad ali

5 thoughts on “In Love…”

  1. When its like that it truly is beyond words, though poets always have and always will continue to try — like trying to describe the color blue to a blind person. Beautiful post.

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