أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Strange are the times of life when much can be felt, and thus one might think much written, but there isn't. Many emotions surface from the depths, and sink back into their origin, without ever meeting the light of day, without ever finding expression. There is so much I could write about, the changing directions of fatherhood and the kind of beauty my Sunlight is. I could write of my Love of All Lifetimes, and her once having spoken of being "eclipsed" by the aforementioned bright one. Or about the endless irony of loving a Gift whom my Rabb created as one opposite of me, how the contradictions I have to lay seamlessly together, like a farmer who knows the seeds he's working with need each their unique nourishment and he cannot water any two seeds the same. Or how many flashes of light and brightness, that He brought to my vision, then sooner or later took away from sight, so that names and memories and hopes I have, but nothing more. 

I could write of the questions held inside my chest, unanswered expect by facing my own worst case scenarios. Of not knowing whether the echoes inside of me still have their home inside those who claimed connection to my soul. Resonance, that old nemesis, evasive and unknowable, all of the scribbles on the wall of my cave, continue written without reply, because the paths we take...He decreed them separate. If you delve too long on this point, it's enough to bring about its own chasm and become as potent a reminder of the past as a blade is of slicing through vessels. I am no stranger to that though. 

I want to meet you all again, each of you. One I knew for mere minutes, others for decades, some at the surface but glimpsed far beneath, and others just projections of hopes and anticipation. My experiences shape me, as all of us are, by the sum of our choices and natures finding expression, one way or another. 

I could choose to let go of my long-stated dream of reunification, perfect coexistence and reconnection with my beloved. But I will not. This life and its death are so utterly finite and without capacity, it would be the height of travesty to let my vision fade due to something so limited. So, by His grace, the vision remains, a Garden among all Gardens. I don't know if He will allow me to find it, but if there was anything, ever, worthy of being pursued, any destination worthy of being found, of being called Home, that is it.