I sometimes act like I'm not thoroughly fucking pissed off at you, but you have this way of getting in my face and picking away at me so that I accept my anger and confront you, only to wind up face-in-palm as I realized my own bullshit.
I got so angry with you a few months ago that I had outbursts of rage and I almost became reckless; but then I remembered how much I love you and I remembered your love for me and I couldn't possibly stay angry long.
When I was no longer angry and in my right mind, you said to me sternly, "You need to be truthful and just. I do not want to hear your thousands of "I'm sorry!". How can you be sorry for what you meant to do, even after I warned you several times not to do what you knew not to do? I only require justice from you, not your apologies. Start rebuilding what you have torn down, begin repairing what you have destroyed, and then I'll help you - but I will not do your work for you."
And as I lift, you lift twice as much; as I nail a few, you nail a thousand more - so we rebuild and repair together the damage I've done. Even your other lovers come to acknowledge the good I've begun as they shine their lights over my head. Thank you for everything, indeed.
You are astonishing my love! You are better than any other lover. The people of this world have so many songs for their lovers, but you don't care for any songs - you never have and you never will. You want your lovers to be truthful and gentle, and if they are not truthful and gentle, then you have a problem with them.
My love, I know your voice and I know your touch. Your fingers are cool and gentle when they grace me and caress me inside. They are not cool like ice - but like a strong mint when in the mouth. Your voice is thunderous, not like thunder, but like a perpetuating roar or a raging river - the sound of a large tumult of water when a dam breaks. You shook the entire city, people even called Fox news to report the sound - I snickered a bit. You never do anything in secret and you sure as hell can make a scene. You are like the gentle shepherd from the hood.
How can I count the number of ways you have been kind to me? You are my pleasant surprise, everyday. You give me what you require from me, you make known to us what is good - I am without excuse. You are, quite literally, attached to me - and there is no separating us - even the grave is no match. He is my constant stalker, and on the Day Of My Enemies, he will aggressively stand up to you to fight you for my hand, and you will not give in. I will hear your voice and feel your touch. And though my eyes will roll to the back of my head, my flesh will not stink.
You are not monogamous, and it is not enough for you to even have 2 lovers. It is not your desire that people wither away like flowers in a field, but that they become like flowers in your Garden, whose petals never wither. It is you who tends to their leaves and branches, watering what needs to be watered, and pruning what needs to be pruned. But the flowers of the field (like the flowers of your Garden) have liberty, and you are no tyrant. Their pleasant and perfect lovers are figments of their own imaginations. Just ask someone and listen to how they describe their lover. Just listen to their many many songs! They refuse to be truthful - so you've decided to not be bound to them as long as they are untruthful.
But I am well aware of things my love. You are my lover and not theirs. Most have no idea of what I'm talking about, and those that do pay me no mind. They are mentally and physically abused by their lover, but because he says, "I love you", it's enough for them, and they believe him - even after generations upon generations of being beaten and tossed into the pit. But you are my lot, and besides you, there is nothing more I desire in the Earth. You are not bound by the knowledge of our physicians or by the power of our technology - so those who are blind will remain blind until technology advances; those that are deaf will remain deaf until physicians become smarter. This is what their lover offers them, and it is satisfactory to them. This is their portion, and they are satisfied - if there were not, then they would come to you like a withered broken man looking for true, genuine and compassionate love, and they would find it.
