Come To Me

My Dearest Beloved

If I had you by my side I would want to live forever
Should I meet you in my dreams, I shalt never awaken

I Love You, deeply, truly, madly.

Dreaming of You

Echo

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.

~
Christina Georgina Rossetti

 

Life In A Love

My Dear Beloved

Thank you.  For you.
For your Love – it has filled my life,
and continues to do so with every moment
I am touched by your continual light.
You are everything within me
You are my love, my life
You are me.

I Love You, Forever and Always.
For an Eternity Together.


Life in a Love

Escape me?
Never-
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one’s eyes and laugh at a fall,
And, baffled, get up and begin again,-
So the chase takes up one’s life, that’s all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope goes to ground
Than a new one, straight to the self-same mark,
I shape me-
Ever
Removed!

~
Robert Browning

Cloths Of Heaven

My Dear Beloved,

Come dine with me tonight, let us feed each other on the words of Love; savouring every morsel and gaining strength from the sustenance of each succulent nibble.

I Love You!

Cloths Of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

~ William Butler Yeats

This Place Is A Dream

The Dream That Must Be Interpreted
This place is a dream.
Only a sleeper considers it real.
Then death comes like dawn,
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought was your grief.
But there’s a difference with this dream.
Everything cruel and unconscious
done in the illusion of the present world,
all that does not fade away at the death-waking.
It stays,
and it must be interpreted.
All the mean laughing,
all the quick, sexual wanting,
those torn coats of Joseph,
they change into powerful wolves
that you must face.
The retaliation that sometimes comes now,
the swift, payback hit,
is just a boy’s game
to what the other will be.
You know about circumcision here.
It’s full castration there!
And this groggy time we live,
this is what it’s like:
A man goes to sleep in the town
where he has always lived, and he dreams he’s living
in another town.
In the dream, he doesn’t remember
the town he’s sleeping in his bed in.  He believes
the reality of the dream town.
The world is that kind of sleep.
The dust of many crumbled cities
settles over us like a forgetful doze,
but we are older than those cities.
We began
as a mineral.  We emerged into plant life
and into the animal state, and then into being human,
and always we have forgotten our former states,
except in early spring when we slightly recall
being green again.
  That’s how a young person turns
toward a teacher.  That’s how a baby leans
toward the breast, without knowing the secret
of its desire, yet turning instinctively.
Humankind is being led along an evolving course,
through this migration of intelligences,
and though we seem to be sleeping,
there is an inner wakefulness
that directs the dream,
and that will eventually startle us back

to the truth of who we are.

Rumi

When It Hurts So Bad, Why Does It Feel So Good?

When it hurts so bad, why does it feel so good?

I wish this all made sense, I wish I understood.

Not having you here with me is tearing me up inside,

but I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try.

Loving you feels so right

But at the same time

Knowing I can’t be with you

Keeps me up at night.

I just want this to be simple

I want you here with me

To look into your eyes, to be held in your arms

Then I would be truly happy

Because no-one else comes close to you

No-one makes me feel the way you do

You’re so special to me

And you’ll always be, eternally

I Love You

Just to say I love you never seems enough.

I’ve said it so many times I’m afraid you won’t understand what I really mean when I say it.

How can so much feeling, so much adoration possibly fit into those three little words.

But until I find some other way of saying what I feel, then “I love you” will have to do.

So no matter how many times I say it, never take it lightly, for you are my life, and my only love.

I love you more now than ever before.

I Love You, I Love You, I Love You

Forever and Always, I remain your