Friends & Lovers

To think we can apprehend truth through the intellect is an illusion. We need lovers that draw us to its source. Moonlight is the tenderest of my lovers. There are others—the sea, birdsong before daylight, wind and thunder—but very few. I do not give myself lightly to the things of this world. There is no violence in moonlight’s lovemaking as with the storm or teasing coyness as with the sea. You cannot posture or pretend in its embrace. It gently strips from us the things we use to hide our nakedness. They dissolve beneath its earnest, steady gaze and slip…