It is still; standing in the brisk arms of yet another sleepless night, I am finally at peace.
Something just fell into place. Within me, a sort of joyous resolve is blossoming.
I am awake in a way that I have not been in far, far too long.
I feel as though I am floating just outside of my body, watching it act upon its own. Watching my fingers press these words onto paper that doesn’t exist – I am at peace.
I am loved. In ways that I can never do justice with words or images or poetics. She has made me whole again, though she doesn’t know it.
In mere days I will have my muse incarnate inches from me, and my soul rejoices.
I, who do not believe in a god or a hereafter or a power other than that of love and hope, am fully here. And there is nowhere that I would rather be.
My mind is writing too quickly for my hands to keep up, so I continue in the halting style that I have long become accustomed to - though it is for reasons new to me. Things are being lost in the mental maelstrom, and it matters not.
I am alive.
And the world is beautiful and broken.
There is so much to be done. So much that must be written, and even more that must be seen and shown and lived.
And the stress of it… has melted away into pensive determination and creative flux.
For such an extended time have I felt lost in the sea of ‘must-do’s’ and goals that seemed Sisyphean; no more.
Success is as possible as you allow it to be.
You just have to find it within yourself.
And you, my dearest one – you gift me with this, and you know it not.
Know it now.
I am still; standing in the brisk arms of another sleepless night, I am at peace.
Viens avec moi.