The Shore of Eternity

Our love

The purity has driven others to seek to destroy it, attempts have been made to thwart it because they hate its beauty. The love that was pulled from pain and abuse of others, the love I always knew that was there, a prescience that held me in abeyance, awaiting its fulfillment.

I never knew of love before you, what I knew of was misshapen, something primordial, diluted, the world held nothing but profanity. I knew of our love always, an ephemeral presence, a mark of the eternal that I could not fully understand. A revelation I was not ready to receive. Imperceptible, but somewhere, an undercurrent that was apart, distinct, remote, yet present. I could feel it but not ascertain its locus or magnitude.

The discovery of our love was only possible through destruction in my life, which had to occur. Only through the flood could it open and manifest, paving its way a millisecond after the detritus was washed away, filling the void, a mark of its destiny. It could not be stopped, nor delayed, nor bargained with, nor shunned. There was no choice, its valence was unstoppable. A truth that stood before me, unfolding in my arms, your arms, only your arms. Others could not comprehend or understand, it came as a torrent. I was barley able to gain control, unyielding, unrelenting.

Our love cleared all that I knew, unmooring me from a faded, fragmented past, pulling me away, snapping lines. The deluge that portended a change inside me that I never knew was possible, unrecognizable. It clarified, removing all edifices, false gods and adornments, false pretenses that weakly attempted to emulate love. It cast the profane away, cutting, always uncompromising, felling trees that obscured my vision, flooding the empty houses of the past. Its waters casting a distinction of all that was wrong, so wrong. My blindness to it was finally ended. It cast the absurd asunder, a final, total, follow through. A sword cut that carried the weight of my soul.

To future our love, it is intuitive, not a task, nor a burden. It unfolds in an unspoken Way, the Way. I cannot go long without it. I carry it through the turbulence of our lives, the profane and absurd, the deformed that rear their claws, relentless trying to upend, remove, abolish, or erase. Their efforts and perceptions lay bare the emptiness that emanates within them. A parasitic disease that attempts to emulate or attach, ultimately betraying its form, a mirror to the filth that it is as it recoils from our beauty.

Our love is unremitting, unperturbed. A constant, while it can be covered in the distractions of the world, or the pain of others, it is still there, always there, beneath it all, awaiting to be held again.

I fail at describing it, I can only hold a glimpse of its might, only feel it permeate my being, only know it through my dim vision, casting beams through the thinly papered walls that cover my soul. It carries me to eternity.

I stand at the shore with you, the wind blowing, I see your hair. It is cold, yet we are safe, I am there, we hold each other, looking at the roiling indigo before us which holds us back. The clouds darken, not a harbinger, but a reassurance, for we know that without the chaos it could not have been born. I hold firm to you, knowing that this all prefigured my earliest understanding of it all. I stand as a vessel only to dimly recount its power, what you have given, what we have given to each other, what will always have been given, the finality complete.