Know that I have loved you as much as I love everything.

As much as I love the moon and the dark soft tides of the water-light against the pale creaking docks of the harbor. Washing and washing the shore, each dawn a little softer than before. Porthladd, you are forever porthladd.

As much as I love the birds behind the window, whispering their secret tones, a worm, a nest, a moving cloud against a blue backdrop held sharp and still amidst the engines of their chirping. You are, forever, the birds.

As much as I love the voices, murmuring into the walls, the monks in their comforting attire breathing smooth against the sacred altar of their god, the blank stares just shifting strands of energy, rising again, connected to our voices, sleepy, vulnerable, and complete. You are, forever, the temple.

As much as I love the stars, the progenitors of our common history, the heat of my brow lying back on a snowmobile in an arctic night, each tiny piece of the universe part of you and colliding, a part of me and feeling, touching the blanks of my eyes, heating them and twisting, and the rest of me cold, and wanting you. You are, forever, the cosmos.

As much as I love myself, the fiery outcast, the charming broodiness, the longing to be held and forgotten together with the breath of every living thing upon me, my skin soft but scarred, my lips, touched, but forever wanting. Forever wanting the harbor, the birds, the temple, the cosmos to crash down upon me like an ocean ravishing a stone, like a bird swooping for the hunt, like the monks when they touch the face of god, like a supernova in its death throws, I will want you.

I will love the violent beauty.