Love Letter on the Wind

Supermarket sushi eaten on the 5th floor of a hotel room bed. Beyond the parking lot, oceanic gray meets a horizon of witches' brooms, just now coming back to life.

What if I do not respect death? What is death but another nothing? If peace is the thing, the only thing, then every thing else is a temporary exhale.

The lover appeared in this morning's dream. We saw each other by surprise and embraced for a long time – too long. The husband asks, “so, are you friends still?” And the lover answered, “No.” But the lover's meaning was different than that of the husband's, for the lover meant that we are far, far beyond friendship. I woke to the wind causing the hotel window to whine and moan. I finally let the cold air in for peace.

Husband, hear the wind: nobody loses. What you have walled off is lost to the multitude. You nor I nor the lover is to be sacrificed. My prayer now is only for the kind of freedom that blankets existence in peace.

What we have is not ours. Let us give it away so that there is no loss to suffer, no sacrifices to be made, no problem to solve.

That is the most loving thing I can say right now. The remembrance of perfect love is blowing in on the invisible winds beyond the borderland.