! Love You

Dearest T…, Great to hear from you! I’m glad the hospital didn’t confiscate your mobile and your laptop this time… but – what can I say? I’m sorry to hear that your break-up with the new bf was so violent – well, at least you’re highly trained in law h h h… but I’m glad to hear that you changed your mind when you got to Zurich… I’d like to know more of that; but won’t ask just now.. and I’m touched that the two poems on the riches of the self were the first poems that you read when you came back into the ward… should I be glad, you silly girl, that they ‘made your mascara run’…? Oh dearest T - whom I love, as the self in all; who’s stretched the love of parents, friends, beyond all reason, to that place where only love is left… to do what love can, may, might, do… you’ll go on testing the – let’s say – Absolute’s – God’s – love for you with tests that only someone so loving, so intelligent, so aware, so stubborn for the truth could devise, as self-destruction… until the day, when you’ll accept within that sober, loving self we know so well, that you, yourself, are but that absolute, that self, that love which you have no need still to test; nor can; until that day when, out of love, your self tires of your tricks… keep me in touch? for there are some of us who know that love is boundless; useless, T, to test our love for you; and you’re too bright (alas?) for me to tell you yet again the consolations of philosophy.. I’ll simply write, Look after yourself; and look, then, at those words as if I’d never seen or read them once before; fall still; wish you, too, stillness; there is no more for words. Michael