Let us not cast our gaze downwards as our fused humanity consumes as our shared divinity overtakes. Let each serve as guiding stars sherpas on this odyssey.
Let us sink completely. Consummately. For every constellation ever contemplated is consecrated in this one love story. And every love story ever imagined indelibly imbedded in the depths of our six starry eyes.
Most often, you must join me on this side in order to realize there is no you, no me.
We are but perfect energy contracting and expanding, simultaneously, always.
From the other side, this message of love a mere mirror.
You mourn a loss. I cry as well, for I am you. As you are consoled, I , too, am comforted. I rejoice and soak in the revelation: All is one. And it is well. And, though you may not yet know it, you celebrate as you marinate, too.
grief is like a slow digging-out from the grave you left them in’.
I lay there, trying to put into words my own experience of loss to one caught in its’ waves.
As it is wont to do, my body tried to fill in for the sheer inadequacy of words. Reenacting grief’s journey, my hand moved fluidly above my bare breasts, forming a chasm, cutting down from upper left, long and deep through the middle, cleaving back up to the right. Each subsequent trough becoming more shallow, eventually forming an almost smooth line at the surface. ...