All that matters is the love. You remind yourself. She is so impossibly beautiful. All too easy to get hung up on the impossible rather than the beautiful. She heals that. She strengthens where there is weakness. Through her, you’ve manifested a confidence you should have always had. It crystalized through her gaze. That self-realization – that should have always been, but perhaps it’s better it came late. Maybe it gifted you some kind of beauty through pain, a gentleness you wouldn’t have otherwise had. When you feel her beauty. All that matters is the love. When the worry arises over pieces not realized yet, and all the definitions as to what it could be, what label would be placed on it. A gentle reminder from her, from her angels, takes away your fear and reminds you, all that matters is the love. The gentle touch of a hand. Without words, she knows you are always there, and she always has your heart. You’d give her anything you’ve won. It’s already planned that way. All that matters is the love. ‘But, I don’t have this piece yet! I got this one, and that one, and waiting on two others to come in!’ Then, that gentle feeling. And the realization. You would still love her if she had missing pieces. If she had no pieces. If she went to pieces! If she lost her pieces! And that brings a peace. That maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. You’re not the only one who is forgiving. You’re not the only one who realizes some things don’t matter, and there are other ones that do. The ones more invisible and less tangible are nothing but visible and tangible when the touch of a hand reaches yours. All that matters is the love. It doesn’t matter what it is or where it goes. What it is and what it isn’t. A loving friend, a buddy to the end. It’s just a beautiful love. Maybe something she allows to come her way on a rainy day. The worry goes away. Love is always creative. Always creating. It’s what it does! It shows itself in new ways. Maybe in a year or two, or fifty, there will be the turning of a head. ‘It’s been you all along. Who knew?’ Maybe it will look like everything. Maybe it will come to nothing. But there’s no need for the worry. With all the words and definitions, it’s just a wonderful feeling of love for somebody. At the end of the day. A gentleness. A wishing to be near her in whatever way allowed, at whatever closeness or great distance. It’s all it ever was. As magical and strange – and wonderful because of all its magical strangeness! – as it came to be, the way it came over you, you never even bothered to ask, “Why her?” It always feels it couldn’t have been anyone else. Like you always loved her. Like there are pages of backstory that would fill cosmic libraries of you two that are only readable in dreams. And those feelings that come over that are so profound, but carry no words. It’s like you always knew. Some part of you did, and does. The part of you that’s the real you, and not the you that worries with the worries of the moment and of the day. She takes it away. You see her today, and you exhale when you see her, blowing out air like you’re blowing on candles, and you realize your lips are trembling. Trembling! She’s *that* beautiful. Nobody does that. She has this royal-ness. Regality. A lion. A lioness. She must have Leo in her chart, somebody would say. And you’re in uncharted waters. When she looks at you, she sees right into you. Sussing out what you’re all about. And you know you have your flaws, but if you know only one thing, you know the love you feel is real. The realest thing about you. And you hope her eyes find that truth and forgives whatever insecurities and fears you have. She is otherworldly. Not a figure of speech. She really is of some other world – not of this one, that power in her eyes. That beauty of hers. It’s God. It’s the Universe. It’s all the secrets hidden behind doors when regular folk think regular life is the regular stuff we see and touch and feel. She pierces through the veil. She’s sublime. She’s beauty you’ve never witnessed. She could be a hundred and two. You know she will always do this to you. And you pray for her to see a hundred and three. But she’s coming from somewhere eternal. She’s the eternal poking through a divine opening of time and space. So you can give her all the time in the world, and give her distance and respect her space. Because you’re running on her timeless-kind-of-time now. Days and years go by, and you’re still writing a note that speaks about her eyes. You’re lost at sea, and it’s where you want to be. The real world speaks in murmurs, muffled sounds from televisions and people gathered on street corners outside a window. You’re somewhere deeper, in her timeless time, all the time, when your focus is on her. Sometimes it feels she meets you there, in much the same way. The two of you in a pool where there is sun and noise and playful screaming all about in the above. Then you splash beneath the water, together, where all is muffled silence. A different kind of sound. And you look at each other, playfully holding hands, she leads the way. Seeing each other through those silly goggles! And she slips you a secret with a mischievous smile, in that special place beneath the depths where only you two exist. Touching your hand under water. Her eyes. A look and a nod – sharing a secret in the quiet, a shared moment through giggles and goggles, and snorkels and snuggles. In the deep end, and far from the shallow. She meets you there, all the time, where time takes a moment off, in a dream or in a rhyme. It can come at any time of day. She has one loving hand in the real, and the other in the unreal, all the time. She gifts you confidence! What a gift! Confidence you should have always had. It came from inside, but that’s where she is, too. Inside your mind. Your heart. Her soul. Her face, her feel. The feel of her energy. You swear you know it. Powerful, but deeply gentle and vulnerable. She has to protect it in a world so cold. She’s developed this whole strength on top to safeguard her core. If you don’t feel her love – this love about her – then you don’t know her, or her essence or her might. Or, you haven’t earned the right. You haven’t proven it. She discerns without ever letting someone know they’ve been figured out. Because she doesn’t want to hurt anybody. Her talent to so acutely figure someone out, by the words they use, by how they express themselves or what’s important to them. She can do it so quickly you’d never know it was done! But, in that lightning moment, it’s the difference between knowing heaven and that of finding an immaculate door in the dark, and when you twist the golden lever, you find it doesn’t budge. It’s locked. And you never saw it coming. These are gifts she knows she has, but she doesn’t brag. It’s not the obvious stuff people talk about, anyway. So, if you got this far, it’s better than getting a gold star! Pasted on your forehead, or something to stick on the fridge. It tops all that. Because you really feel the reward. All the time. The truth in it that you’re okay. Something in you has met with her approval, passed a test. Maybe even special in some way. Because she’s leaving that door ever-so-slightly ajar. Perhaps you’ll know on some rainy day. You’ve come so far, because of her. Loving her gives you ballast. A gentle knowing, and a confidence of a quiet kind. When the worry comes over regarding superficial things – the puzzle pieces still missing to complete the scene, you remember all that matters is the love. A buddy or a friend. You’re serene. It doesn’t matter where it’s going, or not going, because you’re not going anywhere. You’re grounded by her grounding, and instead of going this way or that, it all passes through you. And what a marvelous view. She’s Paul Anka singing Times of Your Life, soaking up Atlantic sun, thinking of all the added joys that got you to here. Gatsby finger-painting on the stars, “It’s got to go like this.” And realizing this is the magic right now. It will go as it goes, and so it goes. It passes through. She awakens you. All the time. Her gaze has so much power that generations of ancestors roll by, long lost July nights of fireworks and laughter, you as a wide-eyed little boy. Her eyes are in everything. Timeless. New clothes. She’s always shedding her skin. Always new. Yet there is that part of her that is forever-steady. You just can’t put your finger on it. Because it’s in all places at the same time. She’s everywhere. The most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Impossibly beautiful. Someone from a dream. And she lives in both places. A touch of a hand. There’s no more to wish for, because if you feel her deep inside, and feel her all about, in the way that words fail to convey, you know just the touch of a hand completes. A smoothness and a whisper of her lavender. That touch can come in a million ways. Figurative or real. It’s all real. Love is creative. It’s smarter than your fears. It outfoxes your worries. Let go, and let it be. A mystery. And enjoy the view. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ll ever know. What else is there to know? All that matters is the love. It’s made you who you are. No matter what, you’ve come so far. You treasure her. No matter how close or afar. ❤️