Your Red Candles are burning

I just came home from the graveyard. Your red candles are burning.  One over there and one here under our silent Oaktree.  Meanwhile the evening darkness has fallen. I’m sitting at our windowtable listening to our Persian Lovesongs. Streching out my hand , longing for a feeling of being in touch with You.  Ohmydear, over there, on that chair just behind your unopened laptop hangs Your old camel jacket.
Looking into and through the emptiness of Your beautiful eyes, what do I see there?The shining through of a few brilliant tears? Are You weeping? But You are in Paradise now, aren’t You…Or perhaps still on Your Way? What do You say? Sorry, I cannot hear You. Feel only the smiling of Your tender lips. What? Why should I feel so full of sorrow? Don’t I really believe You are absolutely liberated, dancing, flying and singing Your Lovesongs in Heaven?
Yes, of course I believe that. But I cannot help it. Just as I’m trying  to find  a new rythm in my heart. Somewhere in here sparkles the source of our eternal love. It is the same origine of an inspiring flow to follow in writing as well as the well of my tears. How can I ever write again without feeling this deep sorrow? What do You say? That You will do the weeping for me? So I can feel at ease, ok, serene, while You do the weeping through me?
Othank You so much, my Love, I see. It’s not me who is weeping but You are doing that for me to set me free….To give me that touch of Paradisiac rhythm, of Heavenly Breathing, to empower me to hum and sing and write again. Like never before.  Feeling deeply in touch and embraced by You, dear Willemien, my Eternal Muse, thank You forever.