The River

 This is "Duffin`s Creek"- your river.

Synchronicity works in strange ways, perhaps we create it or we live in parallel universes-all of us. You called me "River". Remember? I guess because of Leonard`s song .....now I see this beautiful river daily, and it is an extension of me. I see it from my living-room sitting in my armchair looking though the glass sliding doors - just about 40 steps to its mossy bank. This is my very own place-I even have a huge fireplace and a great bedroom. The place totally still and calm even during the day-only the ticking of my clock breaks the silence. You would love it. No, you would adore it as I do. You would sit on the river bank and just write, create, bring forth your deepest thoughts, dreams and passions;  become the prayer itself that rises up to God. This river would be your muse once more, as I was. The forest in the background, the silence, the beauty, the peace the fragrance of the crisp air would transform your spirit. The grandeur of nature revealed, the grand creation of God manifesting as beauty-even now with the bare trees it is an awesome sight to behold as the sun dances upon the water, it reminds me of liquid gold as it flows in silence.  It is like living in an other world: a magical world of beauty and impermanence which is ever unfolding and changing before my eyes. It embraces me entirely; heart and soul and body. Yes- nothing stays the same.

Lately being so down and all, I failed to realize how blessed I am for this gracious gift- I think you dreamt this place up for me- you with your magical alchemy. When I saw it for the first time, my heart was filled with joy and happiness as I had this vision of sitting on the bank and reading all your letters, thinking just of us. No, I haven`t as of yet. Actually a few days ago I had this urge to let you go,  I was going to let the pages flow down stream - page by page, like those Japanese paper  tiny boats they send of with messages  into the unknown; but I thought maybe somebody would discover our secret and our heart. I could never allow anyone to read our words-to steal them; they are sacred in a way- and there are thousands of pages literally. This river  flows into Lake Ontario, which is about  2 miles down stream, and it would have been full of our thoughts, secrets and dreams. Now, I am glad I didn`t-for I would now live with eternal regrets and sorrow of the loss of your beautiful words to me. Thank you my heart.