A Letter To You

Dear Friend,

You may have forgotten that you have forgotten me; that I exist.

That forgetfulness, my friend, is born of FEAR – Feverish Escapism And Regret.

You chose, did you not, to step apart from me for a moment; a moment of separation and self-creation, you thought. You left me – if that’s possible and so you thought – and you were gleeful at your clever escape, thinking I knew not of this.

But your glee lasted the shortest time for you realised, in an instant, I did know of you escape, your clever escape.

You took off, bounded into the darkness you called light and stopped abruptly, as if hitting a brick wall. That brick wall, my friend, was guilt. You felt guilty at leaving me and, in truth, I was gleeful for you. How else, my beautiful friend, are you to experience light when you have seen not of light? How can you know of connection when you know not of separation?

I was so glad you stepped away for, in so doing, you learned of our sacred bond, our unbreakable bond.

I was so glad while you felt so guilty and not because you felt so guilty. You thrashed about like a thief in the night, robbing from yourself, thrusting at shadows of shadows. Nothing existed but you thought it did … made up that it did.

You were blessed, observed and encouraged while you stole into darker and darker places, while you hid your apparent shame in the noisy insanity of the world. You needed to do that and we loved