I walk as I am but a man, always mortal and sometimes frail to the pressures of life’s design. I love, however, as an immortal soul strong to the test of that mortal man’s frailties. I wander in my circles and on my trails testing myself out against the challenges of this life, testing the wounds and the dizziness in those spaces that require a rigid adherence to stability. My heart dreams on, always returning to a place were you stand, smiling, begging me out of my shell.
I am a walker. I am a searcher. You will always be my home.
May I look at you in a way that inspires those we love to find what it is we see. May those pictures, framed today from moments where our souls unite in love, tell those who one day find them scattered about in various places the story that raises their hearts to hope. May we look at images of our younger selves, staring at the mountains under skies painted blue, remembering the pains of our parting united by the truth of our union.
We are lovers. We are partners. We will always be a home.
One day, when the spring wildflowers bloom and the winter’s ice is fading from the trees, may the prayers of hope be realized as the vernal equinox rings in the distance. May the love known be promised on the boulders of a rushing river be made whole by the melting of the past. May we both stand besides a willow tree, knowing love’s great promise as the breeze makes music through her branches. There, we shall continue to realize the truth of our meeting, and the warmth of our eternal embrace.
She is the truth. She is the promise. She will always be my home.
It is that love, the one echoed in this lifetime as it once was spoken in lives past, that makes the blue skies bluer, the spring thaw warmer, and the rustling branches of a willow tree such sweet music. May we find some shelter there, some respite from the trials of this life. May we always find our home in the embrace.