Lavendar is Involved

The horizon at dawn is singed with color I cannot name, but lavender is definitely involved. In these silent hours you look forward to the words that are being nourished deep under ground. And you also wait on the absence of words which gives a transcendence from the sunken.

In the psychological mode of love, that which is beyond form is made conscious, and I recognize it in the other. Yes, a certain resonance at all levels is present, but there is more. A deeper level grows in awareness. And, in the retreat . . . in the distance . . . in the gap we've pried open together – the end enacted does not destroy what is now awake.

Desire without need. When romantic feelings arrive, they are beautiful and welcome. Tell me everything about the apple freshly fallen from the tree sitting on your windowsill and how it might gleam in western light. Tell me about how if left there over time, it begins to soften and wrinkle and release its blushing perfume. The image ages; what is unlocked in its beauty does not.

One day I woke up knowing that I am complete. The ashes of burned maps are finally cool to the touch. God . . . it's all true, Beloved: yes, no, not yet, maybe.