Yesterday my lady left the country for the Isle of Green, Eire. I'm stupid enough not to get what's happening yet, and so I am still not on the floor, crying. Maybe I wont be. Maybe now, I've suffered through thtat, grown past it, matured. I mean, I realise she's far away, and I wont' see her for a while, but that still is eclipsed by the glowing light of happiness that it is to even know her. To have kissed her. To have held her.
It's scary nonetheless, these months ahead, being forced to face the ever present fact that no one, ever, really can say what's going to be in the future. Something you easily forget when the days are linked like a chain and not separated by a Grand Canyon of Time. I know things will change during this time. I know we both will. But I have no idea what that will mean for our relation. For the chemistry of combustion between us. Was the abyss of her leaving a catalyst to our Love. Or was it an inhibitor. Will things burn brighter next time we mix. Will they simply separate, like oil and vinegar.
"it may look like I'm brooding
not getting much done
but, oh, there is a cure here
the light is very pure here"
