Ever watched the rinse cycle of a washing machine or how clothes get tossed around in a dryer? No? Umm ok…
I wish I had a better reference than laundry, but after weeks of pitiful sleep and general discombobulated existence, it’s all I’ve got right now about my mental state.
They say what happens in the dark must come in to the light. Personally I find the dark more honest than the light. Noon is often more deceptive than midnight. There’s a certain unspoken honesty that comes with the dark. Away from the judgement, real or perceived, that comes with the light.
Sometimes it isn’t enough. Sometimes what needs to be spoken gets lost in the dark. Sometimes it simply hides the reality that can only be seen in the light.
But it still says everything, and nothing. It all depends on whether or not you’re really listening. So since you didn’t hear what it said…
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.