Continuity is not a theory; it actually exists, so I’ve reassured myself over two fleeting decades of animation. This single quest for clarity, especially within romantic endeavors, has dragged with such muffled mercy to the soul that my faith in such continuum has fallen inferior to what others deem fantasy. And again, I propose the question: Is a flow in progress self-sustainable?
I don’t know the secret to continuity, but in some untrodden region of my consciousness, I recognize that I won’t secure it in Keats or Shakespeare. And whether through the sirens of heaven or the indolence of hell, continuity has entertained my mind with only an exquisite spirit of inquiry. But today I stand, embowered in my own awakened and flickering eyes, upon a first glimpse of this concept so fine in texture.
Continuity in romance is not about imagining a future with someone, but about not envisioning one without them. It’s not about wandering the celestial paradise or the depths of hell, but about journeying back and forth without losing sight of that one person. And it’s not about uniting by the hand, but by the density of each footstep and pace of each breath. Lastly, it’s not about him/her being the one; it’s about the two of you becoming one.
Within his voice, I have found the therapeutic value of harmonic rhythms found only in music, and within his eyes, the enchantment of vibrating colors emitted only through light. And within his soul. I have begun to digest the manifesting expression of eternity concealed within true love.