If sounds from my mouth could flow like that of an artist’s brush to a canvas, maybe then my internal could manifest and be expressed to you. To have spent such an immeasurable amount of time with you in such a way that it has sprout in me, a state of insurmountable daze in which the plethora of words that harbor within are of no use and the actions in which I am capable of are of no significance as it cannot be anything but infinitesimal to what has overcome the very essence of my being.

I used to hear people say that love is a form of bondage in which one becomes a slave to the transactions of that relationship. If by slave they mean the elated sensation of being constantly propelled into a state of liberation, the state in which one is in a perpetuating cycle of self-improvement and growth, a cycle that is fueled simply by being within the same vicinity as the other in which the separation of the two is not only inconceivable but just the simple thought of separation incites the souls of each to succumb to excruciating woe. If this is what they meant by slave, then I pray to that which is so much greater than I, to never play a role in releasing me from such a bondage as I am already as unhindered like the lion that scales every inch of the jungle, as lively as the deer that saunters amongst the forest, and as liberated as the bird that roams the heaven skies. And although the physical separation of our bodies has been stipulated by life itself and thus could not by any means be evaded, my very heart and soul has reconciled this woe into an everlasting peaceful anticipation, an indescribable warmth that cannot be comprehended with senses or reason alone, but rather, it is only through the conscious and unconscious submission of my entity as a whole that I am able to move along with time, both patiently and impatiently waiting until we meet again. And it is also through this bondage, this enslavement to the essence of what has risen, that I am able to, within its midst, rediscover myself.