Rising — not falling — in love

Rising in Love There was no falling about it. It was a walk upwards as to sacrifice as to mountain crests for hidden vistas. It was simple as soaring of realising how easy it is to fly when you close your eyes to shake off earth's muddied surface and tread nothing nothing but clouds. It was all about ascent. Assent. Rising together on the great arch of yes precision of knowing that what was still is Zen 'You go in ships in search of bliss, yet what you seek is here in Ulubrae.' Horace How to step back from your satori and live again the oblique progress to this state? You enter the mirror and find a thousand other selves each about to enter a mirror ... You climb the mountain and find what of course you could not expect — that vast sea suspended, infinite. How to step back having uncovered this, having reached where one journey's end uncoils a beginning. You see yourself approaching from the distance — smile when you meet and pass on. As the wave is water and the flame fire so are we wish so are we desire to break or to burn. Edward Hopper's Nighthawks Whatever they said was said long ago. Neither of them is talking any more. They choose not to look at one whose back is turned to us. They could if they wanted to. They are not looking anywhere at all. Who would have thought hell's walls could be so bare? Not even a clock to tick-tock the moments. Whatever lingers between them will not wait the night through. Whatever has been seen together will now be seen alone. And there will be time to ask where all the time has flown.