february snow, delicate as lace and as finely wrought, ornaments the dusk. those plain, blue hours of repose, of consolation. the silver-blue of snowfall. the sapphire-black of silhouetted trees. the moon rises and is eclipsed, darkened to umber by umbral shadow. these miracles reaffirm that the world is but a place of passage. love overflows
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Comments 13
"My daughter, sweet to me; my daughter, my
beloved, my temple; my daughter, my beloved,
love me, since you have been much loved by me,
much more than you love me."
"And after I have laid myself in you, now lay
yourself in me.
This is my creature."
you are the full moon, honey, rising.
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also i do not see you as better than you really are. i just see you as your beauty and grace exists, which is its own transcendent thing.
yay, letter!
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I was just thinking about you, about two days ago. It's lovely as always to see you write something. :-)
-Max
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It's always nice to write letters. It's been a while since I've done that! It's fun to both write and receive real mail.
-Max
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YES, so yes
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i have the same "yes" moments with much of your writing, too. i know i've said before that what you write is resonant, but it bears repeating. :)
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i am not on AIM often ("birchpaper"), but i will look for you when i am.
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