Hello my dear in Skyelord

At little overdue but at last I sit down with my thoughts meandering like a river, the thrill of anticipation invades my body, sending chills down my spine. Writing to you has always been a full task, an experience, which brought alive my senses and made all mundane reality all the more mundane.

Funny feeling this. I have always seen your gentle face the one I carefully sculpted in my mind in front of me now; a quiet, innocent smile, a softly spoken voice, which flows like a thousand rivers with the added grace painted with all the proper hues, filled with the beauty of unreachable nymphs. At least that is the "You" I see the person I speak to.

I have many times thought out loud about the meaning of this love I had for you, how strange and lovely it is for me. We used to caress each other with the tips of our thoughts and dreams.

I doubt that many relationships have the depth of interplay ours used to have, that kind of intimacy born out of totally assumed roles, the instant recognition of the other's talents and gifts, the virtual and yet unbreakable bond that I thought would keep us together. Having met made us strong, free, and truthful. It brought us a unique, unprecedented sense of loyalty.

And yet

Did we fear the moment, the intangible moment when this seemingly preternatural rapport would wear out its welcome and get jaded, like so many relationships? In a way, as was once put it, we frighten each other. The fears that, at a moment’s notice, we would grow tired of each others. At one time my dear, I could not foresee this happening.

By the same token, I feared the second you realize my tendency to shut off the outside world, my emotional numbness, my inadequacies, all those blatant cracks in my character that are probably as powerful as imaginary. My fears sometimes overwhelm me, tear me apart for a brief moment and then... almost unintentionally... they cleanse me, they purge me of all insecurities, and down-spiralling, self-deprecating feelings.

Here's the truth, my love: Our relationship was pure, immaculate like an angel, a saint, like a dreamer's most precious dream. Cast your fears to the wind, I'll cast mine, and we'll have the purest possible form of love, the kind writers sing about, the kind singers worship, the kind actors cannot pretend to understand. Let's strive for purity in every word we write, in every key we stroke, in every grin that lights up our faces while we wonder how each other will react, in every fantasy we dare to elaborate.

This is my pledge for you: Let's keep the purity of it all, let's, as Hardy once said, keep us far from the madding crowd.

My unrelenting love,