A Quarter of a Century Bereft

This month it will be 25 years. Twenty-five years since I've seen you. I'm feeling so sad today. You know how it just rebounds out of the blue and I find myself whining to you all night with tears streaking down my whiny face? Yeah. God knows all about this too. I frequently cry to Her about how much I love you. Luckily, She has the patience of a supreme deity. I hope you have some of it too, creepy-religious photoshops aside.

Despite this fire in my soul, in my quarter century personally bereft of your physical presence, something always intervened and kept me so far from you. Especially back in 2009 I wracked my brain trying to find my mistake ... what could I have done differently to have seen you again?! Conclusion: all things examined, not much, really. Not unless my life had been steered into another direction years earlier. Or, later... if you'd stayed.

Please know, Michael, this level of whining only applies to you. It could only apply to you. You... the pinnacle of all wishes upon all stars. You... the height of my heart's desire. You... in whose glance lay the supreme resolution to a boundless love. And me... left with only the merest hope of an oft-imagined, and heard by you, tearful confession over the din of a crowd: "I LOVE YOU, MICHAEL!"

But even that was not to be.

I'm glad I believe we're Spirit, or how could I go on? So I seemingly chose this? I chose to love you (you! you!) so incomprehensibly much that I've broken apart into a billion pieces time and time again, with your joy, with your pain, with mine, nearly insane... inexplicably bound by the cosmically oceanic depth of a connection I feel, deemed crazy by most of the world, yet more real than all of it?

So am I some kind of spiritual masochist then? Damn. I'm only half joking. But seriously, is this torture meant to force me out of attachment? You know, like the thumbscrews come off when one learns to let go of you? Or is this to give me the impetus to live in a state of loving devotion, i.e. not letting go... this time by choice, instead of in fear of recrimination by other-worldly forces (i.e. "love me or you'll go to Hell" - that sort of thing)? Life is so cryptic sometimes.

When I ask you, it's all about love.

Oh Beloved, forgive my begging, my whining, my incessant calls. I mean, unless you want it ... then by all means, come kiss me before I start crying again. Open my heart a little wider. Mmmm. You do it so well.

Alas, what joy there will be upon ascension ...
if my destination is your embrace.

~ DM ♥ March 1, 2013