Di,


I am Overwhelmed with Grief;


I do not remember Ever asking to be This connected to Another soul:


I Cannot Think;

I Cannot Eat;

I Cannot Sleep;


I Cannot Even write to you today;


-Ar.

Dear Diary,

How do you explain to a book of paper what it is like to kiss the man you love? To be connected to him at the place from which our words flow out from us? To be So moved to expression that there are No words to express the meaning of what you're feeling and to have both of you So perfectly moved in towards one another reaching for that expression, which it turns out, Only your kiss can give?

I cannot explain it to you sufficiently, Diary. And i believe for that matter, i could never explain it Quite rightly to anyone else either; kisses have become objects of lust rather than expressions of love; how do you explain to someone that your soul is connected to this man and that your kiss is the Crowning expression of that connection? You do not ever wish to pull away from it, and yet at some point you must (-Earth demands it of us, I suppose), and in that very moment that you begin to, his soul reaches out and yearns for that togetherness to stay by bringing you back in for more.


I cannot really access it quite deeply enough to explain the way it resonates with me, Diary; digging into it only makes me miss him more.

God grant me strength;

Ar

Diary,

My head and my heart are so meddled together lately that I am not even sure of how to write to you in a manner which even expresses somewhat closely the Reality of everything I think and feel.

-I am not sure I really like the word "meddled". -It portrays what I am feeling, but perhaps if the word did not exist at all then I would not have to deal with Feeling it?


There is so much Power in our Words, Diary! Is the power inherent in itself? Or is the Power Present when it communicates in Sincerity the Feelings of our Hearts and Minds which we could otherwise not portray?


There is Power also in silence. And I am not sure which of them is more Powerful- the Power of the Truth when Only Silence Can Explain It, or the Power of the Truth when you find Just the words you need in order to communicate it.


There is Power in the Silence between me and Don, Diary. A Power which I cannot explain except in saying that I Know beyond all doubt that he Loves me, and I know he knows I feel the same. But there is so much Power also in the words we use when we communicate it! I would leave Truth cloaked in Silence, Diary, if that were the Most Effective Communication of it, but Sometimes the Power of the Silence moves me into words which my Soul Cannot keep back.


I tell him that I love him and I feel as though the earth's stood still and my Soul has Shook within me with So much Power it could rend the earth away. -And perhaps in some small way, it does. The distance between my heart and Heaven becomes no more, and instead Heaven exists within his heart being coalesced with mine.

Dear Diary,

I wish that I could explain to you the Joy that exists within my heart anytime I allow myself the time to Really think about him and how much Love I feel for him. I feel as though my body has been left behind and my Spirit has been Lifted up and Exalted and Exists within some Higher, More Substantive Realm. All the Air Around me is transformed and I struggle in the time it takes to come back down to this world to resolve the difference that there is within it.

My earthly joys are explanatory; I can tell of excitement, of adrenaline, of "love", of laughter, and so on. But this Kind of Joy, Diary, cannot be Explained if One has never Known it for themselves. -I am Enveloped about inside of some kind of density that is So warm, and comforting, and surrounding, and exalting; and it sets my heart Aflame in such a Gentle way that it is impossible for me to explain.

It is tremendously and inexplicably tender, Diary, as though the wick of the core of my heart had been lit weeks ago, and now has warmed so Gently and so Consistently the muscle of the rest of my heart into an amoeba of warmth which Can no longer be Contained within me and instead Overflows out from inside me and Solidifies Completely the Entire Atmosphere of All the Air Around Me as well.

And when I feel like that, Diary, I do not want to be Anywhere else but There with That Feeling All Around me. I do not want to feel the Emptiness of the Air otherwise. Here, I must breathe within it; Here, I find myself Struggling For Air. In that Higher Realm, Diary, my Heart and Spirit and my Entire Soul, Really, is so At Peace and So In Congruence With the Atmosphere around me, that Breathing is not required as it is here. There is no exchanging of one element for another, because All Elements are Purified and Combined Into One.

It is, in my opinion, the Highest State there is of "Being". There is no incongruency to struggle with reconciling at all. The Struggle, Dear Diary, is in Realizing Even More Completely the Difference and the Dissonance of Elements that are in need of Purification here in order to Achieve Such Oneness for our own.

I will go without Don, Diary, for however long I must, but Heaven exists Only when his heart is mended into mine, and No Earthly Joy, and I trust no Other Heavenly Joy either, could cover up the hell it is without him. My heart is missing, Diary, and Only God can Restore it unto me. ...How then could I Ever forsake Him? Every earthly thing will fail you, Di, but God is my Hope, my Courage, and my Strength. And even in the times when All I've Loved has been taken from me, God has Never Failed to Grant me the Peace I Need to Carry Through.

I have come to find, Diary, that the Deepest Truths are often found within the Simplest of Expressions; No extravagance is needed when you communicate the Truth, because it somehow has an ability all in Itself to prick the soul and shake one to the very core.

That is how it is for me with Don, Diary. I love him so Completely. And the evidence of that Love we share is found within the Impact and the Resonance of even the simplest of things within our souls. The touch of his hand, the sensitivity of even just the simplest, yet sweetest pucker of his lips, the sound of his voice- as though a song is being sung within the natural tones and fluctuation of pitch of his voice that is Only his to sing; the Knowing, Loving gaze and admiration of his eyes...

I have said it before, Diary, but Somehow in writing to you like this I cannot keep from saying it again. There is a thickness and a density of matter that surrounds you when Love is there, and I believe when it is Truth which underlies that Love, such a thickness and density not only surrounds you, but becomes a part of You as well.

-I feel as though my soul is something as solid and anchored as the string of an archer's bow, and yet as delicate and able to resonate the music of the Love we share throughout me as an open violin string, but with the depth and impact of the sound of the cello. He simply says to me that He Loves Me, nothing more, and it is as though I have been Shaken so much at the core with a Truth so Basic and so Pure that it Exists Completely on its own and is Independent of Anything else that either one of us could Ever say or do to attempt to dispell it.

And so it is, Diary, that we are left either with Acknowledging, Accepting and Embracing it for what it is, or else Denying, Defying, and Fighting Against the Reality of it Altogether. The Truth of it is Always There, Diary; Underlying Everything we do; and Once Discovered for What it is, it is as though it can never be undiscovered again.

There is so much pain, Diary, in Resisting it. And so much Love in Embracing it. And Ever Since the Moment I first discovered that Our Love for one another was in accordance with Truth, Diary, I have either been flowing so Perfectly within the Current of the Acceptance of His Love, or else I have been Doing All I can to attempt to Rage Against the Rapids of Accepting it as True.

The Grace God Gave Her to Fall back on when All was lost
OR
The Grace God Gave her to catch her when she fell

Ar,

I do not say it often, though I know that you can feel it; But today, somehow, I feel as though my heart is overflowing and I cannot Keep from you its sentiments without feeling as though I deserve them Already less than I have Always known I have.

I love you deeply, dearly, passionately, and particularly Ari, and the snowflake-like while yet igniting, fiery, distillment your Spirit and your Heart has had upon my own has been Unparalleled by Any other.

I feel as though in reaching out so tenderly to place your hand upon my chest, you have somehow penetrated through the skin and blood and bone and shaped my heart within the tender touch and hold of your hand.

You are So faithful and So strong, Ari, and God has blessed me so distinctly and so personally just by bringing you into my life.

I think often of the Power that there is within your kiss, and of the Honour and the Respect and the Compassion that has been Present within my lips every time they have even so much as come in contact with your skin.

And Ar, I just want to thank you; It has never been the same with Anyone since.

-Don.

Dear Diary,

I feel perhaps I write too often of Donovan and not nearly often enough of others around me. Such that you may get the view that what i feel for Donovan is something other than the Genuine Love it Really is. Such that you may think I am carried away in fantasy, or in wanting Love so badly that I create fantasy of it in order to satisfy my desire for it. I wish to be absolutely clear that what I feel for Donovan is the Truest and Realest and Most Sincere Thing I trust one could Ever get.


I could yield my time away writing of the connection that is missing for me with others, I could tell you of every man that I have known who has been short of what is there with Donny, in hopes that you may better understand, but what would the use of it be? Either you believe me now, or else you most probably Never will. I do not feel it is my role to defend myself to you; I have said before that I am bare before you, and I do not feel inclined at all to Explain myself to you beyond that.

I think sometimes, Diary, that maybe Even You will someday betray me, and I feel sometimes, Diary, like my Own heart is the Only Safety which I can ever hope to harbor for Eternity. I wish more than Ever for you to Stay with me Through it All, and I pray to God you can, but with at last having Donovan gone and taken from me, I feel I am beginning to doubt Even the things of which I have been Surest and Would Never Before deny.

-What am I becoming, Diary? I do not Even know Myself anymore; I do not have the Faith God thinks I have. I do not have the Strength. I need Something to be Sure of. Something that will Never Fade Away. I need Truth, Diary!, I need Love!, I need Hope and Healing and Tenderness to come in and take over All this hurt and heartache and harm; I need God to Hold my Heart Within His Hands.

I am not sure of you, Diary, I am not sure of Don. I am not even sure if I am sure of God anymore.

And I am not sure of how to end this eloquently either.