2005-04-04 - 3:28 p.m.

This is the third entry for today. If you did not read the entry directly before it please do that before reading this or it will make no sense (not that I'm promising it will make sense after). Thank you.

Little One,

I know that words don't always serve us the way we
might wish that they would. Somehow they always seem
to fall far short of what we feel, but sometimes I am
compelled to try to find a way to say, to speak 'us'.

I used to want to try to relay to other people what it
felt like, for one reason or another. Now I just have
things I want to say to you. Things I'm sure you know,
but I want written (I'd rather long hand but neither
of us would be able to read it when I'm done)
somewhere, incomplete though it may be.

Despite the anticipation of being with you I always
forget, and it's impossible to prepare for, that
moment. The moment of lifting my head from drowning
when a second before I didn't know I was under water.

It would be too excruciating to carry the memory of
feeling whole. To know fully how that moment changes
us would be to carry the loss in an inescapable way. I
picture myself in shackles and insane if I cannot
somehow trick this terror of BEING without you into
creative submission.

Do you ever wonder at our strange traditions? I know
of no one else who employs such bizarre tactics upon
greeting another in the human world but then...

I've come to imagine that our rituals allow us to
adjust to each otherís presence Ė give our frenzied
molecular fusion a slice of time to settle together in
a pattern of metaphysical love and unparalleled

I watched your hand in mine last night and it is an
image I hold in my head. There is something about that
small hand in my own that makes me feel more of a man
than nearly anything else, save that look in my
daughters eyes when they are afraid and daddy appears
to chase away the boogey man.

But then.

Itís similar isnít it? When we come together we
provide an escape, a closing out of all the world
happens instantly and completely and as our little
greeting play ends so begins that journey into self. I
never know myself as well as I do when I look into
your eyes.

Every time our lips touch I see in my mind sparks,
electricity, faery dust, every element - earth, fire,
wind and water encased in the being we become, my
moon, your sun and the stars of our kiss. Itís as if
our secret language began in that kiss and stays
safely within those electrons.

I fear some day that I will consume you. Enclose my
body around yours and usurp you into my being where
youíve belonged the entire time.

Thereís something else. This is a more recent
development. I fear each time will be the final
goodbye. It may be nothing more than the romance of
morbidity, or the loss of Michael continuing itís toll
on my life, but the visceral reaction to moving
physically away from you is nearly insurmountable and
I begin to daydream about the day that one of us is
gone forever.

I donít know if one can go one without the other. It
may prove impossible, but if when we are gone someone
decides to have a look inside I am secure that they
will find pieces missing in each of us, and bits of
extra as well. They only need check the corpse of the
other to find the matches. I shared this with Yasmin
and she theorized that if we were burned up in a fire
together she is certain they could never separate us,
know one from the other with any of their science.

And that may be the closest thing Iíve heard to the
truth of us. Iím not sure they could tell now.

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