Sometimes the love I feel is so big that I'm afraid it will crush me or the world or both at once. And I have no idea how it manages to stay contained inside this cage of ribs. How it doesn't fly out into a million pieces and just as many directions.
Tonight I am reading Mary and Kahlil's letters from the years at the heart of their love for each other.
Boston
January 1911
Yes, beloved Mary, I would like to go to the Symphony Saturday evening and hear Elman,* for I feel a strange hunger for music in these days. And it will be so good to sit in your shadow for a few minutes afterward.
Mary, beloved Mary, when you are alone, in the silence of the night, send me a breath, a little breath from your heart, and I will work better.
Good night,
Kahlil
*The violinist Mischa Elman (1891-1967)
Beloved Prophet (1972)
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