There is a Love before loving anyone. You cannot find this Love, only be found by It. Simply make of yourself a space to receive, and you will receive.
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This sweet stillness of the quiet rim, form that you, My Love, place your mouth upon to imbibe the Wine; you, the Chalice, my intoxicating fullness contains, your tongue's delight am I, those eyes my Light supply. Eucharistic depths mystify, wash on shore questions never sating longing or answers to satisfy. Finally, falling, surrendered, helpless demise to thirst and hunger:
No more bread, no more wine, only This Love beyond altar and steeple, gods and goddesses and religion, right and wrong does quiet this lover's restless seeking that led me here to you: One isle of Calm, the gift of life received, for lost the self in your arms.
I never know what this Sun will say.
I know I did not learn this from anyone anywhere.
Do not think I have lost anything I have been given all in this fortunate fall by Grace to Grace.