You and I met online when I was not even interested in the platform. His daughter had insisted that I should be there, to keep in touch, to share little secrets. The kind of secrets a girl would share with a future stepmother.
I was not even attracted to the father who was such a gentleman. I never gave him the chance of even knowing me. I shouldered an indifference. I was, in a blink of an eye, just a friend. He is a worldly man but deeper inside I knew he was lonely despite having had two beautiful kids, growing up almost as fast as the risings and settings of the Moon, and Sun.
He worked very hard only having time for me during dinners and lunch when he would talk of other things besides work gazing deep in my eyes, where he could read neither secrets he already have kept stashed in his heart. When he met her, he invited me to the wedding. His children had left earlier. I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. I never said goodbye either.
Five years earlier, my heart was torn not knowing how to handle a separation with the other. I wanted so much to give him every single breath, every story, every secret. It was love, at first eyesight. That impression which is rare in a common world where being indecent is a quotidian affair.
Pappa passed on several years earlier before you and I met. I was still in a state of shock. I didn’t know how to handle him not being physically there. He was the only one I could speak with, of matters most cringe, and I was fading too fast in his mind, his eyes. With him departed, a huge chunk of me went too. I should be completely empty but I have died even before I came to this plane. To be breathed again, to endure death before life is a reality I should be accustomed to — I have died ten thousand lifetimes, if not more and trustfully, this will be my last, but with you by my side should that be the case.
I leave not to discover anything new, or to relish in memories past but to be in a place where nobody knows me … except you
In your loneliness, you went too fast, you had made plans even before I arrived, and like him, you rarely have time for me, besides needing someone there beside you, yesterday. What is another year, if we truly loved, if you truly wanted me, if we truly wanted to be One. What’s the use of these eyes if you didn’t know whom they are for, within as without. I live within as you do without, contrariwise — try to remember the covenant within since we commune on this plane otherwise, you wouldn’t have been fascinated, you wouldn’t have endured the years, you wouldn’t have stayed.
You thought of having someone reliable, someone to love, someone to talk with, a friend. I have plans too, but I rarely plan — my reality is different from most, the dream has to be worked upon, the Foundation is more crucial than ever now but Asia is still very immature especially where the in-time is concerned but I am not complaining; and not everyone is a perfectionist, or an amaranthine. I wanted you not knowing for the first time in any lifetime how to cope with a desire which I have never experienced. With you my body ached in turmoil, as if you’ve awakened an endless tempest awaiting to be unleashed.
Soyez pareils à des enfants mais ne soyez pas infantiles — Le véritable adulte n’est plus du tout égoïste. Il a atteint l’état-sans-ego, où l’égocentrisme lui-même a disparu, l’ego s’est effacé.
True Love is lived in Spirit, the non-state of being, being. Living wisdom is being-ness itself! Love is only unconditional on that higher plane, and that plane is a state created just for us, One. Where polarities are just veils, one often crave for trueness, or falseness. The moment is above that. Always above the transition. The transition where […] but we shan’t talk of these, for only philosophers relish in such decadence. Let them drown in the ocean of thoughts, grasping to an appreciation which is most often replaced by a naught in question.
Que vous me manquez tant !
Let our bruises, the scars … these stories fall in love with themselves