I was reading a few of our correspondence. Yes, I visit those pages the very odd time. It saddens me beyond all imaginings, pains me to core of my very soul, and it breaks my heart each time into millions of fragments— for it forces me to remember, but all I want is to forget. How strange though, for yet I pray to God fervently never to allow me to forget and keep all your words as a sacred reminder of our love . All seems like it was a dream, perhaps we just dreamt it?—love has escaped through our fingers, but then I always knew it would. It was too good to be true, you always knew—God does not allow for long what we had. We are mere mortals—the brush within the paining of God`s creation. But then we have our past all etched into our memories; words, phrases, music, images—how strange it is. There are days now that I don`t think of you—then you re-enter my heart like a thief in the night and then I am within you , and you within me once more. I feel at home once more—and times like this I miss you something fierce—so painful yet so sweet A paradox—my existence feels your loss, yet at times you have never left—how can this be? Why am I so cursed as to remember? Oh to drink of the sweet waters of Lethe just for a day, for a moment.
Well I have to say—forgiveness is a virtue for some, for others;
well ego is paramount. It takes an enlightened soul to reconcile and to
acknowledge that we are human with human frailties. Shakespeare was right—“love
alters not when it alteration finds”, but this small phrase seemed to have
escaped your soul.
I know you think of me—not as often, but some things are
eternal; we are eternal and our union is eternal---as you once said;
predestined by God. But—again the Ancient Mariner was right: ”The Bible says
all good things must come to an end”. Thus it is for us this time around—till we
write the next chapter within a different life.
To be totally honest—it is not God doing this to us, but us.
Somehow we failed to accept or allow love to completely to envelope us,
encompass us. Why—I think we felt unworthy, scared. But we were—and so few are—yet we threw it
away with both hands. Yes—in the name of enlightenment, in the quest of
spirituality—thus we plunged ourselves into darkness, into the abyss of
unknowing. We extinguished the very light that was making us grow in love, in
light, in worthiness. We have become a
broken vessel once more with our soul being the very essence that was
the offering flowing out into the nothingness. My soul weeps, my heart is
broken at what we managed to do in the name of love.
Your silence cuts worse than a knife at my very soul.—I
bleed and you see me not. I scream in pain you listen not—help me not. Oh but
these is eternal justice I believe and shall prevail. Love flows like a river—and
you need it to quench your thirst; but
then it will be too late.
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