second letter

comes with a ripened soul and red chrysanthemums.

Dear reader,

I suppose I am still young. Too young to speak of anything ripe, really, I am a little sprout, just a blossom waiting to die and be reborn again as something new. It’s silly to pretend that I am anything but that.

It has been 6 months since my last letter, if not more. And in this time I have done much and I have taken deep breaths like a promise to life and my heart has beaten and loved and grown red chrysanthemums. I am so glad to know that it feels like all the warmth in the world is stored in my heart, I was scared of it for a long time. That love lies in everything. That it is picking up a pack of blueberries, examining, as if I were to purchase them despite the fact that I don’t like how they taste. I don’t like blueberries but my lover does.

The sun is going to sleep and the moon is waking softly. There is no warning as cold air hurries through space as if he has an errand he forgot to run. And with this errand he brings down big drops from the sky, wetting your face and hair and clothes but there is no umbrella. I mean, why would there be? It’s nature’s love, embrace it. So you do and when you reach home’s door and reach into your pocket you find a pencil so small you can’t sharpen it anymore, you find the marble you used to play with as a child and hold it up against the soft shine of the moon so it gives you the answer to love, you find some change and you wonder where it was handed to you, you find the lighter you picked up earlier from the ground. You wonder about the person it still belongs to; it’s not yours, you share it. And lastly you find the key to your home. Despite all, you fear that it will liquidate and run through the cracks of your crooked fingers like mercury and disappear, leaving you cold. But it doesn’t and you open the door, stepping into the old warmth of the morning. And you think to yourself that warmth is love

and to love is to embrace.

And so I wander through the world with the gentle winter’s sun in my heart and love’s presence in my soul and go on my merry way, picking up blueberries on my way out of the grocery store.

Yours sincerely.