Only love, only love

Words.
Insufficient, awkward, clumsy tools with which to communicate. They have all but dried up. Each one spilling forth is incomplete and one-sided, ill-suited to its task. Drawing water from an infinite well, they cough wet sand on the surface of things, unable to match wholeness with anything other than division.
Ah yes, but these are what we have.
My beloved heart-sister, one of the greatest loves of my life, is leaving form and I, with deep tenderness, am breaking open, admitting that I know nothing and yet am so generously known as everything.
She freely shared her love with me, year after year, until my own well was discovered to have been full all along.
The heart never grows tired of loving, no matter the cost. It pours love like an inexhaustible river filling the parched places so long tended by words alone.
Now, I have no words to offer at this parting. Each one spills out, empty and inadequate. The heart simply breaks and love spills out, flooding life, every where I move until there are no divisions, only love.
Only love.
In this great truth, there are no partings.
Only love.
Only love.

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