A Love Affair With Life Itself


This is a love affair with love itself. Everyone is my beloved; all the appearances of transient names and faces that flicker on the screen of dreams we call life, the only place we seem to exist. Everyone is made of love; everyone is love itself. There is nothing you can do that will ever take you outside of this dream of love. The story you tell about who you are or are not, the songs you sing, your suffering and hope, or the peaceful ease of bliss as you seem to dissolve into what simply is--- none of that separates you from the love that we are, none of that matters at all.

This is one love song that is not even one, simply undivided. Love is not personal, for there is no center to this love from which I can look out and see you as separate. No center from where I can feel anything for any separate appearance, including this Miranda character who is simply being lived, animated for a time like a leaf floating in a river. The movie plays on a flat screen, and yet it seems to have characters and objects that move about in three dimensions, and that is its magic, its divine expression, though there is no divinity behind it.

No longer is any apparent word or action seen as coming from any source, any character in the film. Life itself writes the script, and that includes every thought and every emotion. There is no me apart from you and yet here we are, dreamt characters in a love story without beginning or end. You are only the flickering light of a dream, as I am, and we are inseparable as we do our dance in this timeless instant. You are all my beloveds, as it is deeply felt that you are me and I am you, and yet we are not any thing or being at all.

You are the fragile illumination that appears and vanishes into a perfect endless night of infinite stars; each star unique in a timeless sky seen only in the ephemeral glimmers of starlight that shine like the luminescence in my eyes filled with the tears of a love that truly has no name. 💓

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