Touching God Days

I dreamed I was back in time, nestling my chin into her Elisif hair, all the while knowing she was gone.

*****

“The object of love is not the subject of love.”

(This opaque phrase came like a mantra, pulling me back from the brink.)

My ache had become for one person, unattainable. This singular quixotic focus: a kind of closed loop, time and again back to the start, like a vinyl record stuck on scratch. No music forward.

Then it came to me:

The object of love is not the subject of love.

*****

Serafina put it well: for those to whom we point our love, it’s simply a matter of uncovering it. The love is not new – all we do is reveal it.

(Maybe love is like our red-eyed friends, the 17-year cicadas: underfoot this very moment, unseen and perhaps forgotten, waiting to erupt here and everywhere, assaulting our every sense.)

To be in love is to release something already there.

*****

The object of love is not the subject of love.

When I was in college, I would have a new crush just about every week. Today, on good days, I fall in love all the time with just about everyone. Those are the true days… the days of music. The touching God days.

The object of love is not the subject of love.