In the first days everything is distraction. The movement is alluring, the smiles… infectious; the sad eyes, sympathetic; the tantrums, disheartening.
‘Round about misunderstanding, like plastic horses rising and falling to whims of Calliope (as if she were once again ascending, a Goddess of toys and amusement, when eloquence or even frank talk is most needed), only a bit of the one in front of us is seen in our winding track. Yet those glimpses and determination, endless chasing and somehow investing where all may be lost… they bring forth love unbidden.
More than we understood, our choice and a child-like commitment lead us somewhere and the motors stopped. Once in this atrium, light pours down and begins to bathe passionate love with understanding. In knowing, in gentle revelation and nakedness that both repels and attracts, fear gives way to certainty. Passion wends it’s path (a love of firsts) to a tree with deeper roots. And so a love overshadowing is revealed covering you and I. Its branches hold us and shelter all our dreams, while passion wraps about its trunk, wreathing our hearts with flowers… turning us about in twilight hours with gentle blooms of rushing blushes in the gentle wild.