Thresholds of Pulse

Don't rush headlong into loving me. Move slowly, far more slowly. The way a feather falls to earth from a great height—that is how you must fall into my love. I am both difficult to bear and difficult to digest.

When I love someone, I pour my entire heart and soul into it... with no holding back, no hesitation, no ifs or buts. If ever you find yourself lost in such a fog that you cannot escape it, and after lingering there a long time you discover that I alone among all souls would suit you as a companion, call out for me then; I will come.

The soul—the body is nothing to it. Don't love merely for the pull of flesh; love requires no asking, no bargaining. Love is a beautiful feeling. When one falls in love, one catches glimpses of heaven's angels almost always. Those angels come and brush away the clouds of despair, lighting the lamp of hope; by love's magic they transform a person into a true human being.

Love that lasts only for a time goes by another name. Let storms come if they must, let clouds gather, let misfortune arrive—love endures nonetheless, true to its singular nature. What I understand by love is like a very sharp knife; at its touch all sorrow is cut away, shattered into a thousand pieces, and becomes joy.

If I love you, then I wish to feel in my heart that very pulse that beats ceaselessly in yours. May my sorrow become a fountain of strength at your touch, and may it be the same for you at mine... if we truly love each other. If it cannot flow this way, then what we have is not love.

When I love, I...
soar on wings like a bird,
gaze with a warrior's eyes,
touch with a mother's tenderness,
live with fire's fierce strength,
find shelter in a father's protection.

Fall into my love slowly, ever so slowly... If time runs short in your hands, then either walk another path, or be prepared to endure the uttermost suffering.