“Proximity” – Recorded 01/24/2022 – Auroraboros – Objects, and the Distance Between Them

It is snowing gently here, an even distribution of small, white flakes in all directions, as if there is a frozen fog slowly descending around my home.
I cannot help but think of you, as I find myself doing almost always these days, and as I bring your image to mind, I wonder at how your presence in such a serene moment would change my perception.
Would we stand together and hold hands, your head placed so delicately on my shoulder, looking up through frosted eyelashes as I beam down happily then back out at the winter landscape?
I wonder, and I look down at my empty palm with a curiosity, a longing, but I do not mourn your absence, just as I do not curse at the winds which blow outside or the ice upon which my shoes slide when I leave the shelter of my home.
I am grateful now, for this moment of solitude, to look out and wonder, to dream.
I look up into the glowing sky and give thanks for the longing I am feeling now, for the void in my heart and the vacuous space beside me.
What tender feelings arise when I am without you but feel your love nonetheless!
How could I have known the true depths of love, had you always been with me, had I never learned to let go and trust, to close my eyes to the world around me and search within my heart for you instead?
I would rather one hundred days our bodies apart, our spirits entwined, than any endless number of moments with our forms pressed close, yet our hearts and souls distant and crying out.
How can I ever be without while I am accompanied by the spirit of your love, your sweet voice ringing in my ears even when there is only silence?
Oh, and then… sweet kisses on my heart, when I at long last see your face or hear you speak!
To the day when, once more, we will be able to hold so carefully each other’s arms, or to grasp in our hands the fingers and palms that have waited so patiently for their chance to be caressed.
All and all between, to cherish, you, and that which is not, that I might never forget…
The world, condensed into a single point, not but a drop.
Dispersed, to crash on shores, to ebb and flow as waves or rise and fall as a fine mist or a delicate crystalline structure, refracting and amplifying as it does the natural beauty which abounds.

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