I like the feeling of hunger for it reminds me of all those hundreds of months without you.

Missing you, thinking of you, like a friendly lonely thin tiger smelling the slip of a season into a new season.

I would like to do many things before we should ever call this anything. For when we touch the earth, we touch a foundation of interdependence and impermanence: for we build this castle in the sky, in space. We are what stars or trees or streams are, and stars or trees or streams are what we are. And if things come together if only for a moment or an eon it is the same: it is a warrior’s love song you and I can sing in the shower.

I would like to remember that you and I, we…began things properly. Slowly, deliberately, in the old way: as if we meant it.

If you and I spend our seasons together we would find that our dreams and fantasies of happily-ever-after-love have holes in them through which the wind of karma blows: our yellow flag shakes. And I would like you to look ahead and see what I know: the wind will replace our pretty ideas with something brighter: life.

You are not my dream girl.

You are this earth. You are not a fantasy: you are my love. And love is friendship lit by a wooden match with a white tip on its red tip. I am your match, and you are mine.

The alchemy that is friendship mixed with attraction is important. The alchemy that is two hearts, two minds, two lives, two particular laughs in silly melody is important.

And, it is yet unknown, as you are, to me.

Love is only available to those willing to be continually brave in weakness.