"I do not want you to die."
The words fell out and stretched their weight across every appearance held dear.
"I cannot imagine... nor do I want to... this life, without you."
And a hush fell over the room. And the weight of it was like an anchor that pulled my timid heart through the floor, and turned us inside out.
And you looked at me, in the way that you do... and your eyes told me EVERYTHING.
"of course you cannot imagine it, for you are not the imaginer. You cannot get a hold of it... you never will. This grasping, this trying to hold on... it's simply what you are. Like the sea trying to catch the tide. It will never catch it, because it IS it already, but that does not stop its heave and ho."
And I could see it was true, but it didn't stop the trembling, nor the salt water tears from tumbling down, "but it will hurt too much, I cannot bear it. It will drown the whole world out. There won't be an ark to save me! Nothing will be left untouched. It will never be the same."
"Same, different... Different, same." you smiled.
You have always had the most amazing way of distilling everything down to what I know already, like a ping from the depths of the well, a pure resonance. My hearts resounding, silent: 'YES'.
"... the sea trying to catch the tide," you continued, "You are what you are right here, right now. That IS "the world" — nothing can drown it out, or be drowned. Nothing can bear it, or break all apart... you are the bearing and the breaking, the drowning and the saving, the sadness and the joy... the unimagined."
I sighed, "I know. But that's no comfort to me."
"No, it isn't. Comfort would try to keep you from your fullness, like a net that would catch you before you know how deep the fall. BEING that fullness, there is no depth you will not render. No dark or light you'll not just BE."
"What is this fear then?" I asked.
"The brilliance of the story. The absolute brilliance: that there's chapters yet unknown. It's the quintessential thrill of the ride. You think you want no part of it, but the truth is — you fucking love it."
The anchor fell deeper,
and dropped out the
I could see it. I know this.
And all the lights clicked on —
"This heart. This heart of life...
"yes," you smiled, that warmest smile,
"there's no piece to come apart."