Let us not be strangers when next we meet; instead I pray we should greet each other as kindred spirits. Ancient souls inextricably and inexplicably linked together by thin threads of existence. Experiences shared would be our bread, emotion and empathy our wine and aperitifs.

Fortunate indeed would we be if we could pray in our own ways in this temple of the universe, our religion of sharing and professing a deep and abiding love. To wildly careen into an ecstatic and and effervescent dream with you would give the universe pause.

To what ends do these desires seek? To set hearts ablaze, purge despair, and slay anger. Is it a mission? A directive? No, merely an imperative bestowed upon us from aeons past.

I weep inwardly, knowing well the depths of my own darkness–knowing that you too possess such a well. The agony of such a wound, un-mendable by any hands untempered that know nothing of your struggle. I would know it, if you would but venture beyond yourself. Grant me vision into that well and know that these hands are tempered in the fires of love, quenched within the depths of compassion.

Breathe with me, and I would make it so. If only in seeking solace you would come to honor yourself, your struggle, and hold space and love for yourself. I would have you smile and be heard.

If only you would begin. If only.

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