Dear, Love. It is there. We will meet in that space where we don't seek. The timeless place where we don't work or perfect. It is where desire becomes a curiosity without attachment. It is the playground of visions and admirations, free from burdensome results or voids to be filled. A space where I actually forget all about you, love, by the purposeful distraction of living joyfully.
I cannot seek for you when I am pouring my heart onto the page before me, and living in abandon of any time and measure. This holy space, where I give of myself free from the hesitation that judgement brings. You see, it is the same hesitation that has stalled our love. I release it and live in the lightness of experience without strategy. It is where the flow of life captures me and I willingly unravel to its unknowns. There, where love intoxicates my breath, with all of its chaos and uncertainty.
Our art is a rebellious laugh in gratitude that spirit is finally leading the way. It is there, in that space of clearing where we shall meet. Because in that liberation of celebrating what brings us life, we can see for miles. And though we may have exchanged many times in passing, this my sweet, is the sacred space where love becomes, us.