The Love that Stayed

Love Letters of Dust: The Love that Stayed

The rain misted in rhythmic sheets, dancing almost with the fitful streetlights.
It came in waves—constant—highlighted by the glare refracted and multiplied into myriads of falling tears as rain.

I felt it then, Beloved. That same sense of You and I back in the brutal New Hampshire winters, just walking, breath misting beneath the cover of night’s innocent, first-fallen snow. I remember that old navy barn coat with the brown corduroy collar I wore back then, and the sense of time and life hushed. It felt as if I could stumble into one of those fabled worlds C. S. Lewis penned—The Chronicles of Narnia made real beneath a streetlight’s halo.

I felt it again today around three or four a.m., just driving through the city as it slept. Feeling the blustery nudges against the side of my car, I sensed that same hush return. It tickled my senses and made me smile, carrying me back to those fretful days when life was so much simpler and more chaotic all at once.

I remember asking You to let me feel that same stillness a while ago—
and what a surprise when it came in the form of misty Carolinian rain in the near middle of night.

I still feel that ache, Beloved.
I do not know how to tell my heart to stop feeling this way.
I am unequipped to grapple with the flaws within my own self.
Am I wrong to hurt like this, Love?
Is it too much to ask for a kind word—thoughtfully considered and delivered with compassion?
Or a hand to my heart, just to feel the beating—
to sync myself with another of Your blessed children?
Or even a woman who simply wants to sit and idle away the hours, digging deep with me in exploration of You.
Perhaps even a shared prayer—intimacy shared before You, my greatest Love.

I tell myself that I am a dreamer, that my head is forever in the clouds.
Still, You know the truth of it.
You complete me in all the ways that matter.
This sad song is just an ache I bemoan to You.

Why do I do it? You know. But for those who might listen:
I write so others may know the feeling of holy tension—
spiritual intimacy versus the physical counterpart—
and that true unity comes when all is joined together as one.

Anyways, I am going to get back to my other poetry, Beloved.

Always Yours,
Dust