Letter to “My Love” Natalie
How are you? Hope you had a good night. I did not sleep, but I cannot say my night was bad. It was full of some form of apprehension that I hope will be done by the time the sun rises. I was just thinking of you. By the way I have a major headache. I rarely have headaches. Anyway, since I love writing, I thought it would be a good idea to write to you. It would be inequitable if such an epic night passed without writing my love a letter. So I have been thinking of what to write…. Expressing oneself especially at this phase of what I would fairly refer as ‘provisional psychosis’. So I ended up coming with something close to a poem. From the deepest of my heart, did I try to derive an expressive form of romantic literature for my girl Natalie.
Love is eccentric and attractive,
spanning time and space,
Distance & age being no object to love,
I will travel whenever I need to be with you,
When I am in your arms my love*,
That love makes a moment last a lifetime,
Yet it can make existence seem no more than a moment.
When it returns, it flowers.
I have craved it, strived for it, fought for it, & would die for it,
And having found it in you, I knew I was complete
For in your arms My love is wholeness
Belief, completeness, passion, security
I love you and would do anything in return
Love produced a realization of all that I am & will ever be
Regardless of what the world may mean to us
My love for you knows that when you are away,
You are still loved, cherished, thought after, and missed
and deep in my heart, I know that you love and miss me too
My love for you brought provisional psychosis
Erupting like a volcano and then it subsides
and as it subsides, I have to make a decision
I have to work out whether our roots have become
So entwined together
That it is inconceivable that we should ever part
Because this is what love is
Love is not just breathlessness, it is not exhilaration
Neither is it the proliferation of promises of external passion
That is just being “IN LOVE” which any of us can convince ourselves that we are
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away.
And this is both an art and a somewhat providential catastrophe
If we have roots that mature towards each other underground,
Incase the entire pretty blossom has fallen from our branches
We will be tight and find that we are one tree and not two.