in the meantime, we live with forgiveness.

 

Dearest,

I would love to apologise, unconditionally, for the little ripples that have found themselves on my shore. It’s been quite intense lately, beyond description, beyond anything I can relate to. But it keeps me away from you, adhering to a silence so loud, so animate and so real.

Dearest, lately, the truth has shown itself in oneness. All that is glimmers in His light, its reflection the total antagonist. Oh, to see spring now and the beginning of summer— it is but the mirror image of death and letting go. To see the ripening of a fruit used to bring me joy, now I see it as the end of a journey. A passing away. The annihilation of service. The bow of selflessness.

I see poverty as ultimate richness. When a flower wilts after it has given itself away and crumpled in delicate brokenness, I see its richness in all what it had to give. The sky that has been set up so high has to stoop so low in servitude, too. The detail upon detail of all creation annihilated in the One which has no detail in essence. The sun shines, despite all what burns for that to happen, it is God beyond all the atoms and energies binding the galaxies together.

People have been so kind, lately. Eyes that look into mine and want to help, understand, support. Lips that utter the most beautiful melodies find their way to me. It’s funny how it all happens when one drops the dreams of all things conspiring in favour of the dream.

And when one drops the dream— a secret behind all secrets.

I see all this and die, dear one. The Glorious takes my heart away. Every morning is spent in moving tears, and I see myself in all of this. In essence, I am Him. But still I am a detail that shall soon annihilate itself to walk home..

Yet, when I find myself between everything else God has asked me to do, I fall asleep. Grace falls in sweetness of forgetfulness of the pain, and all I do is remember his unmatched glory. In timelessness, I find myself on the way home, watching all those pictures and wondering how it all happened.

Oh, that wasn’t me. It hurts to have these pictures when they’re not me. Silence prevails and I die again, tears in my eyes, glory beating instead of my heart.

And where do you come in all of this, dearest one? When I’m wretched like this, how am I to serve you in silence? In an annihilation like this? How am I to be with you when I’m almost invisible most of the time, and when I’m not, I feel my body breaking, missing home.

I know that even when we are hurting one another, it is service. I’m grateful that home is where there is no knowing, when there is no feeling, no need or desire. He does it all and subjects me, and every cell of the body rises to its subjection.

Forgive me if it’s this silent, this stale, filled with nothingness. Forgive me if I don’t need anything from you anymore. In this timelessness and pain, there cannot be a need.

Dearest, forgive me for not recognising who you are. My heart has been taken away. It comes for a brief period of time for a reason, and dies again. But when it comes for you, my dearest mirror, it wants to linger a few moments more, to sink into your endless love, your forgiveness, the inscrutable in your eyes. And that hurts. That intensifies death even more.

It’s no wonder why temporariness burst through my eyes when we met last. 

There will always be a secret, and it’s God’s mercy that will get this soul through. 

In the meantime, we live with forgiveness.