Life is too short for boring stories

I must have fell asleep. Despite everything I fell asleep, lost in the warmth of your touch and that of the night, lost in you and in my thoughts. I must have fallen asleep, into the rising and setting sun, because night had returned and I woke up in your arms.

You stayed, this one time you stayed, here, with me, on my pier. That you managed to stay here so calmly? That there was nothing, no other task or obligation that drove you away from me into your life that was nameless to me? I was careful not to ask you, because maybe you just forgot that there was something there, there in a somewhere, something that you had just forgotten. Didn’t ask in order not to point out ahead of time that you could leave, actually. No, I didn’t do anything like that, instead I smiled at you, kissed you, with my eyes closed so as not to lose this touch, however brief it was.

„Do you see the moon?“ You finally asked me.
„Of course I see him, see him like every night.“ I replied confused.
„Yes, you see him, but he is not always the same, but above all, he comes and he goes, reliably, but his coming and going makes us look forward to seeing him,“ you said.
“And so I’m looking forward to your coming. Is that your way of telling me that you want to go?” I asked, a little confused.
„No, it is my way of telling you that I am here and am you, not always and not always the same, but when I am there, then I am completely and completely given over to you, forever the same and at the same time ever changing moon.“, you said.
„Do you love me?“ I asked you.

You didn’t answer, you didn’t answer for a long time. I thought you didn’t hear my question, as if the wind and waves had carried it away.

„No“, you finally answered, „no, I don’t love you.“

And immediately I moved away from you. That was not an answer to such a question. It just wasn’t an option.

„I do not love you, as the world teaches us to love, with all the implied claims to power and domination, with the associated failure of openness to new encounters, with the compulsion to repeat.“ You said.
“If you don’t love me like that, then do it differently. Explain it to me!” I asked, willingly returning to your arms.
„I love you, if you mean to be the space of your arrival, which you can leave and to which you can return again, if you mean to be the space of your revelation of yourself, in all its beauty and profundity, when you are with it mean the freedom to grow beyond yourself, if you mean the breeding ground from which you can draw strength. If that’s what you mean, yes, then I love you,” you said.
„Yes, then, if you mean living, breathing life, then I love you.“ I said.

And the moon went its way.

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