it is strange that it would be here that i return. it is even stranger that it is to you that i write this note. do you know who you are?
just a few days ago we held each other and you said something about finally. finally all is well. finally, now, here we are. that i had the nerve to hold you tight and lift you off the floor did remind me of how very real this muse of mine whom you have incarnated is. how very real, and how very mortal you are!
i like that space that is imagined between you and i. it allows me to be me. i like your curiosity, and i like your admiration that are aimed at me. i like it that you say that you do not want to know, because you are afraid that you might understand. then i am the curious one, and do wonder what that in itself might mean. i like how ethereal and surreal this is between us. i have described this between us as a privileged relationship. it is to me, and i do not know what and if you call it anything at all. it really does not matter, does it?
it is good to love and to not care, to really not give a damn, not really. it is good to be present to what is. it is good to give up. it is good to not want. it is really good.
we are not always that blissful and privileged, are we?
you need her and i need him. there, you with her and i with him, neither of us has yet that much freedom and abandon. with them we are passionate and confused, not free. will we ever share with them what we now know to be a reality?
would it make a difference?
