A Panegyric to Love

You held the answer before I could even conceive the question. 

From a young age, you made my young heart beat faster not because my muscles needed more blood but because my soul wanted to fly and surpass the barrier of skin and bone to touch something no finger can touch. 

A gift, despite the awareness or willingness of your emissaries, emanated through them from transcendental realms of which I’ve never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, and made a traveler out of me, yearning to discover its source beyond the brief glances, the accidental touches that might have meant nothing to them but everything to me, the reminder of what vitality means every time they entered the field of my awareness, the dropping away of all mundane cares and the instant revelation that this is what matters…without an argument or evidence but with an absolute certainty beyond cogito ergo sum, Love arriving hidden in mortal vessels, an ancient god protecting mere humans from its original form so as not to drive them to irreversible madness.

How could life be the same, after such arrival? Did the press not notice? Why haven’t the loudspeakers of the world blasted that the search is over? Why are people still going to work as if nothing happened? 

“Oh, the young man is in love. It’s not a big deal. Happens to everyone.” 

So I discover the gift is bestowed to everyone. But does everyone know how to receive it? Does everyone understand its significance? Why then the wars? Why the struggle? Why…the boredom? Could it be that the gift was not cherished, the blessing misunderstood, and the opportunity unseized? 

To close one’s eyes to revelation, to forget that the veil has been lifted, should this not be the ultimate sin? 

To cross the barriers of matter before death, one’s lips and genitals becoming transistors of meaning rather than procreators of the flesh, how is that not the foundation of the human curriculum?

On this day, blessed be those through which the veil was lifted, even those that never allowed me to lift the dress of their hidden altar. What matters is that they made me a believer, not that they refrained from sharing communion. 

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Alexandros Lysios

Alexandros is a grateful recipient of erotic grace & a lifelong learner on honoring it. For more biographical info click here.

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