Lovers' Conversation

If Love is to have even half a chance of surviving (I’m too battered to add “and thriving”), it helps to learn early how to converse properly.

The truest of conversations are not “polite.” There’s little need for decorum in light of what’s to come. Conversations of consequence are about truths and truths come raw and frightful. Truths are warty, bloody, messy, often unpleasant but... always...blessed things. Difficult to bare and behold. Truths can hurt. Best they be not revealed in anger but in sorrow, knowing that blood and tears and bitter gall will flow. Be prepared to offer aid and comfort. True conversations eddy and swirl in a maelstrom of emotion punctuated by tears, caresses, sighs, lightning bolts, kisses, laughter and purrs.
In no particular order.

Any conversation worth the effort requires effort. Hearts must be willing to reveal, to suffer the consequences...to listen and strive for understanding. Hardest of all, the hearts must empathize...must feel. Tears will fall as they must when they must and must be treated with respect. Pain shared. It’s no easy matter to face the pain another’s pain elicits.

Lock yourselves in a room with sufficient food and water. Shutter the windows against anger. Let it flash, if it must, as lightning in a bottle, never forgetting it’s grounded in pain. Better to reveal/experience the pain. Given that, it’s best to talk in bed. It may feel like a bed of nails at times. So be it. Lie in that bed together and hold each other close.

Through it all...through all and above all...fiercely love each other.

And if the conversation proves worth the while, it will have changed you. It will leave you pondering for a good long while. A lifetime, perhaps.

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Should it come to pass...after the long night, the tears, trials and tribulations...that needs exist that can neither be denied nor satisfied by the most earnest of hearts...then may those broken hearts bid each other good-bye with tenderness and charity, with all the passion and mercy each can muster for the heart that deserves no less.

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The Atheist Christmas Carol

It's the season of grace coming out of the void
Where a man is saved by a voice in the distance
It's the season of possible miracle cures
Where hope is currency and death is not the last unknown
Where time begins to fade
And age is welcome home

It's the season of eyes meeting over the noise
And holding fast with sharp realization
It's the season of cold making warmth a divine intervention
You are safe here you know now

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you

It's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart
Of feeling the full weight of our burdens
It's the season of bowing our heads in the wind
And knowing we are not alone in fear
Not alone in the dark

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you

Don't forget
Don't forget I love
I love
I love you...


Vienna Teng

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My fondest hope and most fervent prayer for you, Dear Reader, is that you came to experience, in some way, the grace of Christmas.

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