Taken from Trev's journal
Friday, April 09, 2010
732. of divine light
She breathes life into me; where before, death held no fear, now I fear the day, the years not lived, where a kiss is not a kiss, but the fount of grace itself, as her breath flows of spirit into my lungs and my day animates around that tender touch as if with brush her lips paint me alive. I don't know how to explain it other than if God has a hand, if upon this earth he placed an angel and whispered her to my path, then I would know what can't be known and could give voice to what can't be said and before me stone would kneel and wood would rise. And pass even a hundred years, still my heart would grow, as love grows, as once in divine light, never the same is any thing, every thing more than it was before, and where stood two, as hands held tight, and the hearts beat as one, the falsehood of separation gives way.
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6 comments:
Sigh. Again, somehow you've entered into my soul, my very being. To feel this way about someone, moreso, to have someone feel this way about you, it dreamlike.
This is simple beautiful, from the heart, to the heart. I wish I had your talent so that I could adequately express just how this makes me feel.
TIGHT HUGS/MWAH
LOVE ALWAYS
hhhHHHH
sigh
So often I is written in these comments, a single reader's thoughts, emotions, as often as that I has been written, there has been a clear understanding of the collective appeal of your writing, not how you touch me but how you touch each of us. In your writing, we are turned within, to caves of hope and desire, of memory and wish, to parts of ourselves that rest upon the sleeve and others that we hide, even at times, from ourselves. In your writing, in our response, in that relationship, we understand ourselves better, the collective we. This beginning sentence shot straight to the core of me, the reasons less about the he and she of this post than it is about reason, about finding reason to fear the loss of time, of more, of tomorrow, and apologies right off for simplifying the message within those words so unforgivably. So incredibly touching, innermost-soul-touching, to feel this way about anything, let alone someone.
This is love. You can write of love. I don't know of anyone else who can do so as you do. You are unique. Limitless.
She breathes life into me, where before, death held no fear, now I fear the day, the years not lived,
This quote should have been above the comment.
My dearest Sunshine, love is so hard to define, to understand, to capture in language because it is outside of language and language can only point. But here is what I know. There is a love that wants to live. And without that love, life seems rather meaningless. And when I contrast with her and without her, and I stand afar and look at before and after, I know. And I want life, to live. And without her, there is nothing.
I was adding ratings to your posts and read this one again. I just had to say once more that this post is very special, beautifully written.
I actually did audio for this post, several times; but none of them were what I wanted and I couldn't stand to post something that didn't communicate exactly what I knew it could and should. Perhaps when I have some time alone, some quiet time without interruption, I'll try again. I do want to do audio, but these are very special postings and if I do audio, the audio has to be right and to get it right is as much art as science, almost as magical as the creative process itself. In other words, I'm waiting like a cat for the mouse. :-)
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