for steve

How many times have we sat on this couch looking forward--out the window? not really, but frequently in the same direction at least, like we would hope for so many. I know the rate of your breathing is twice that of mine, and that when you stretch your neck and back it's to loosen out the questions we both have in mind. But sometimes we are wrong to look for words to give us our answers when we simply reach out and brush hands, or brush feet, or brush hands against cheeks to gather the tears. And we are doing just that. The truth of What Is flows easily, and we should maybe just be content to let it all come in and out naturally. We have the unspoken special something that might be misdirected if we try to speak. Assumptions run the risk of diluting the seasons that we live in, seek at times, but know always. It's a big blue sky, and though it darkens at night, we usually know that when we look up we can see the same thing. It sometimes doesn't need a name, and we sometimes don't need to shield our eyes from that which we try to synthesize into unified theories of everything. This we both know to be true, and though it usually makes little to no sense, we would do well to rest content--thinking strong and breathing love, one for and with the other. As has always been the case this is the source of the love we share, and Time and Space might only elude us in times when we let ourselves care about those difficult topics that, in the end, only require a certain amount of faith.


Dear Steve,

Thank you for everything that has been and will be. I love you immensely.

Cori

P.S. Please do not forget.



-7/18/08