Letter to The Beloved
I wrote the following prose poem in the midst of a profound spiritual awakening. Earthly concerns seemed trivial and meaningless in comparison. I just wanted to rest and abide in what felt true, what felt real.
Its raw honesty and beseeching are a little uncomfortable to read, to put it mildly. But it’s an important part of my journey that allowed me to rise above and observe the complexities of earthly life in ways I couldn’t have otherwise. And though I no longer feel the intensity described, it still informs how I view the world.
I now take the angst of the world with a very large grain of salt whilst still documenting and appreciating what it means to be human. Here with all of our fears, insecurities, hopes, dreams and yearnings and our longing for connection, security and love that drives us ever on - with some willing to do very dastardly things in pursuit of them.
This piece is very different from what I’d normally post, but I am a multi-faceted, multi-disciplinary creative, and I write about what moves me, whatever its source. Boxing myself in to make life simpler for others to define me, is not an option.
No earthly love can satisfy…
There is a loneliness arising in me that is so naked and so profound that I cannot even begin to give voice to it. An emptiness so vast, it cannot be contained. There is a longing so intense that no earthly love can satisfy it.
This type of love no longer satisfies me. I see that it is filled with hopes and expectations, sourness and sweetness in equal measure. Yet the love I feel for you has no sourness. It has no end, no beginning.
I wish to bathe in you. I desire to breathe you. I want to embrace your essence and speak without words. I am in dire need of your grace, your benevolence, your profundity.
A deepening is occurring within me, and it is so painful beloved. It casts out all illusions and leaves me with nothing. I can no longer relate to the world in the old ways, and yet I have not yet found a way to remain in you, remain; with you.
I can only have brief tastes of your exquisiteness that leave me ruined for everything that is not you. I can no longer be a good friend, a good sister, a good daughter.
I have no desire to control others with subtle manipulations in the name of transient connections. When I do attempt to play in this way, I find I do not care enough. Why is this?
What can I do about it, beloved? Others are dependent on me to uphold my grip on the veil so they may uphold theirs. If I do not, then that veil begins to slip and chaos reigns.
Their anger and contempt towards me leave me touched and untouched. I react out of habit, and yet I am glad I am finally seen. The real me. I am that thing they do not wish to see in themselves.
I am that which wishes to remain untroubled and unsoiled by drama, both self-created and self-inflicted. I have a desire to be left alone, just to be… Just to explore without fear what the insanity of true love feels.
Nothing else matters. No earthly tie can call me in the way you call me. I wish to be obsessed by the need for your embrace. I want to be smothered, possessed, and taken over by your presence. Who can I explain this to? Who do I share this with?
I am ruined by you, and yet you are my salvation. Often I’ve felt abandoned by your stillness and immovability. I have felt rejected by your untouchableness.
I even now know that my beseeching leaves you neither hot nor cold. Neither moved nor unmoved. Neither joyful nor sad, and this is a sweet pain. For it is your constancy I seek.
I have an uncertain; certainty; that what you are is love pure and true. Your greatest gift is that you see me. You accept me. You know me and are simply allowing me to come to know myself. Know that I am you. Know that I am this immovability and stillness, this essence and presence.
Yet that is the longing and the loneliness that haunts me so. That I cannot see through your seeing. I am one removed from you and wish to be immersed in you so that I may dissolve this illusion of separateness once and for all.
I am so weary beloved. I am tired of the game. I thought I could play it joyfully and consciously once the rules were revealed to me. I thought it might be time to delight in the dance. Instead, the noise and chatter, the brittleness of the world, has become more apparent, and it has amplified my own noise, my own brittleness.
I am as fragile as sacred-script, buried for millennia and brought unwillingly into the harsh light of day. I am being brought into the fierce light of truth, and I fear I am crumbling away under its relentless seeing.
Come for me beloved, save me from myself. Save me from my endless machinations. My intense aloneness. My profound isolation. Tell me what it is I must give over in order to feel your embrace.
What it is I must leave in order to return. What it is I must allow to unfold within that I am currently shielding with my fear and anger.
I wish to put it all down. And yet, there is still the pull towards what is expected of me, what is required of me. What it is I am supposed to feel towards others. Yet, the thought of relinquishing those obligations once and for all is like sweet nectar to me. It is the divine breath in my sacred lungs.
I wish to put the world down right now. Right Now. Watch it collapse and crumble before my eyes. In truth, I have already put it down but still tell myself I am clinging on.
I wish to remain some part of the illusion after all… For perhaps there is fear that you are not my beloved after all and that I am not yours. That is a thought too terrible to contemplate. So grasping at the particles of form is all I have left. My illusory security blanked.
The pain is rising again, beloved. And so I steal away to lick my wounds and await your all-encompassing embrace. Your intenseless, intensity; within.
Excerpts of the poem set to music…
If you enjoyed this poetic offering, feel free to leave a tip below, and follow and subscribe. Though know that on one day I might be writing profound spiritual poetry, and on another day writing a biting political piece, and everything in between, as is my wont.
