We say that we “fall in love.” How beautiful, that falling, that metaphysical, erotic, emotional crashing with another human being. We cannot resist. We crash into each others’ arms and kiss and, united, birth a world that is its own and needs nothing else. Twinned, we make love and make that world a universe, and think of no-one else. Our lips meet, and we breathe in and out each others’ souls, and drown in the erotic depths of one another.
We love it so much that we fall and crash over and over. Surely, this is proof of a Creator? Surely in this, we partake of the essence that birthed the cosmos?
And then, if we find the one, the only, our partner for life, we no longer fall and crash in love… We rise in love. And we still are blessed to touch the edge of the cloak of the Creator, as though the Prime Mover passes by and brushes against us.The very oxygen we breathe is infiltrated by the Essence. This is how we grow old together.
When we rise in love, it is the Prime Mover singing us forward through our lives. The Prime Mover’s breath never falters.