There are things I probably shouldn’t say out loud. This is one of them.
Carrying the weight of my passions is our quiet chaos of a love. Secure at its core, the push and pull respond only to the gravitational pull of love. To imagine me without you is to imagine the ocean without water.
I couldn’t think of a day without the sun, nor a night without the moon. How then can I imagine myself without you? If I were a pen, you’d be the ink. Such a wonderful story we’ve been writing, the kind that lingers like old memories that never quite leave you.
Indeed, everything seems new to those ignorant of history. Yet here you are, making the exception of that assertion with your childlike curiosity, even for stories you already know so well.
Such willing surrender to the caprices of love, the quiet understanding that love is not always truth in its purest form, but sometimes a beautiful acceptance of what we choose to believe. We, tugging at each other’s hearts in endless pursuit of desire and warmth. To fight is folly, for what hope have I fighting a losing battle! You see, I have certain thoughts. Some of them wander into places I probably shouldn’t admit. You make me feel young. Giddy as a little boy, I’d say. But my thoughts are mostly gray.
I look out into the world today; nature sings, met with Divine presence, even when the world tells a different story. “It’s a girl,” they hollered. Joy of her father; pride of her husband; mother of her children: the one with the Midas touch, summoning nations on a single breath.
I think you’re the best, but wouldn’t that be a silly thought? Because to call you the best is to have compared you, and what a silly thing to do. I couldn’t compare you: none comes close.
In the end, my heart and yours yielded to the ultimate truth that there’s no other place for either, a truth I seem to keep arriving at, in different words, across different moments, yet never quite like this.
Agu.
