union

when you got right down to the place where the cheese binds, there was no such thing as marriage, no such thing as union, that each soul stood alone and ultimately defied rationality. That was the mystery. And no matter how well you thought you knew your partner, you occasionally ran into blank walls or fell into pits. And sometimes (rarely, thank God) you ran into a full-fledged pocket of alien strangeness, something like the clear-air turbulence that can buffet an airliner for no reason at all. An attitude or belief which you had never suspected, one so peculiar (at least to you) that it seemed nearly psychotic. And then you trod lightly, if you valued your marriage and your peace of mind; you tried to remember that anger at such a discovery was the province of fools who really believed it was possible for one mind to know another.

The only path wide for us all is love.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here__ another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

Many pray for the right partner but cease to pray for the right union--that they be one as Jesus and the Father are one and so experience the full measure of His joy in the relationship.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

May your union be filled with loveAnnealed by passion Built on a strong foundation And tempered by time

This is joy's bonfire, then, where love's strong artsMake of so noble individual partsOne fire of four inflaming eyes, and of two loving hearts.

I wish for all of us the blindness of love that makes us see no faults in the other.

What is the point of a relationship if not to grant two people the very private privilege to uplift one another every day?

The hardest thing in the world is to let go of who you once thought you were and to manifest your true self, at the risk of being unloved. This is self-actualization.

Because even if you spend your life chasing the immaterial, listening to the most exquisite classical music and getting drunk off of stunning vistas of mountains and waterfalls, all of it isn't worth a dime if you aren__ sharing it with someone. Everything amounts to that. True, we must experience most things in solitude to grow, create, destroy and grow again, but our pleasure and joy reaches a threshold in isolation. It is the worst thing to become an island. One must become the whole world.

Two great things happened to me. One was that I survived. The other was that I met you, because I knew why

Extremities are flawed. Moderation is ideal, save for one occasion.So damn these eyes that weep too much.This mind that thinks too much. But never this heart that loves too much.

To understand and be understood is to be at peace

They tell us the greatest love story is how water fell in love with fire. Or how satan fell in love with God. But the greatest love story to me is how I didn__ notice myself falling, when I fell in love with you

Love fills the infinite.

Do you know what you get when you try to escape? When you drive for miles in a deserted city or swim for hours in a shoreless sea? You get yourself.

Poetry is seeing everything when there is only one thing. It is looking at a rose but seeing the stars, moons, seas, and trees. It is a truth beyond logic, an experience beyond thought. Poetry is the Earth pausing on its axis in order to manifest itself as a rose.