Where am I this eve?

Hell, I dunno . . . somewhere suspended between passion and rage. Sometimes it feels as if I live within that suspension -- as if something waits to trigger my rage as soon as I feel an inkling of passion.

My Passion, she is my Light and Life, my Laughter and my Longing. Spending our first Yule/Christmas/Solstice in the warmth of her home, in her city and in her arms, . . . this was so much a loving learning time for us. To learn how to interweave passion and patience into our day-to-day life, balancing the Es and the Es within the braid that holds us together . . .

MyPassion, do you know how your loving me as you do arouses within me the desire to love you all the more? Do you know, PassionateOne, how my desire to love you all the more makes me long and ache for you, even moments after your truck pulls away and my plane leaves the air strip? LoverMine, I miss you . . . so very much. Selah.

The rage that awaited, anticipating my return from your arms . . . it is becoming, more and more, less than the nothing that it can only aspire to be. I think that is, perhaps, the problem -- that something that what was once actually something to me is quickly fading into less than nothing with every aggravation that it is responsible for bringing into my life. As in Merlin, when things become forgotten, they . . . cease . . . to . . . exist. They become angry, irrational, writhing and grabbing onto whatever shreds are left dangling in the wind.

I used to be that wraith. Happy New Year to the one who showed me that I'm better than that.

And Happy New Year to YOU, MyPassion, MyFiyaX2. This year is only the beginning of what I have in store for you, LoverGrrl . . . only the beginning . . .