For lovers, fear is like clothing. It is shed, one stitch at a time, and left on the floor like bread crumbs marking a trail towards heaven. Gone are the garments we wear, sacrificed to the gods and goddesses of the love we pray to. Forgotten is the fabric we have woven to hide our frailties, our perceived imperfections, and we are left naked to the only eyes we trust with the whole of us.
Lovers know fear all too well. Yet in throes of their panic they discover something so much different. As each layer falls to the ground a new moment dawns, and lovers begin to know themselves as something transformed. Forgotten are the fig leafs they’ve used to hide their differences. Lost are the trees they’ve hid behind. Together they share a much different fruit, and a passion that knows no bounds.
He holds her tenderly with a strength unmatched in her experience. She caresses him with a purpose he has never known. He whispers words to her that raise bumps upon her skin. She replies with truths that bring tears to his eyes. He realizes, and she knows. They have finally found home.
They touch the scars that life has painted within them. They kiss as if their breath depended on it. They move in unison, he inside her, she surrounding him. They don’t think about dying for each other, they focus on living for one another. Their embrace is like no other, their passion indescribable, their truth unknown to a world gone mad without it.
Lovers offer prayers through the beads of sweat that pool upon their flesh. They see their spaces as sacred, and their union as holy. They do not tarnish their altars with burdens of the past, or the whimsical stories of others. Lovers kneel only to each other, in the way their hearts demand and in the ritual of that which binds the stars to the sky, and that moon to her home.
We all seek to be lovers, to be good stewards of that communion which binds us to our soul. We are all born with the conception of love in our hearts. We know love in the breast that we suckle, and the experiences that make us captains of this great ship we call life. We tease our hopes with misfortune, in wayward paths made true with each step that we take. We fall, tumbling into a bruised state, before finally resting…
It is there we find each other. It is there where we find a path that makes all others before it irrelevant. It is there that we find our embrace, our kiss, our love making itself known. It is there the work ends and the effort begins, the former being harsh, the latter a beautiful labor of love. We cease to question, we cease to ask, for all becomes known. It is a space where the two are made whole, and the body reacts to the desires of something so much deeper.
“Lovers don’t find one another. They’re in each other all along.” ~Rumi.
With that we discover ourselves in another. With that we find a friend that lives beyond friendship. With that we never need pray again. The truth is in the hand we hold, in the moonlit nights we make love by heaven’s fire. It is there we discover the truth was always there, waiting for us to find the courage and the strength to find it.