love

love. all i know is this.
i know someone. he put his hand on my heart. we were outside. i doubt he remembers. i do.

it is the kind of love that is living. meaning it dies sometimes. i think something is dying again. i trust it. to sort would be to say this: i believe in him. i see him. sometimes he thinks i don't. usually during those times, it is he who cannot see me. he doesn't know what i see. and that i love despite and because of what i see. i know he sees this way too. we don't talk too much about it. i love him because i appreciate how he walks in this world. i have appreciated it from the moment i met him. he's not as godlike as i thought originally. i loved him as though i were psyche and he was eros. 'don't look at me or i'll disappear.' i wanted to see. i put the firelight to his form. it burned a drop on him. he disappeared. and i went down beneath the ground. persephone, psyche --those gals who descend under the ground --on the surface --they're not all that 'together'.

it's like that. she's a mess on the surface. beneath --you'd never imagine all that she's experienced and seen. way that far below the ground she can't say what she knows. but then she emerges. and she sees the sky. he's probably been flying high too. and maybe they'll meet somewhere in the middle and share a thing or two. maybe he'll talk about what it's like to be burned by the fire light. and she'll share what it feels like to walk with the dead, to facilitate transformation beneath the depths and emerge more whole, not less.

i'd like that. it's one of those essential things. i don't think they know how to see each other together in the same space and trust the invisibility that the eye can't see. that wd be an interesting experience. to share space with the essence that is essential. russian 'dusha'. breathing living transforming dying life. not a lot of people like this. they say they do. but they don't. it is difficult to understand it in this country.