The Beloved

Who can embrace the beloved with both arms and still remain in the light throughout life's way? It is better to find him in the scent of the flowers and the wind, the sweet taste of my creme brulée, or the warmth of the light upon my skin. I hear his voice in the music that surrounds me and know his softness in my dreams. I have only to close my eyes and breathe gently to remember the deeply perfect imperfection of his being and how it still carries me away.

Such truth in the light of a world that values convenient falsehoods is difficult to understand, but I know no other way. I cannot live with, or without this beautiful I am whose way is so close to mine I often cannot separate the grain from the chaff.

I would rather starve along this way than give it up for something less. This precious being is as close to the light as is allowed for now and I am grateful.