My darling, I did not kindle the flames of love for fear of the darkness...
For was it not in the darkness that first we embraced, freeing my soul from its barren prison...allowing it to taste the purest nectar that flows from your sweet kiss?

Nor were these flames of passion kindled to melt the frozen winter of solitude...For was it not in solitude when I did most clearly hear the whisper of my own heart, singing to me your name before I had even known the splendor of your smile or the triumph of your touch?

My dearest, the blaze in my breast is not a decision, a choice, an invention, nor a consequence...no, this incandescent luminosity we ephemeral beings identify as love is forged in a moment unbound by time, in some sacro-celestial domain unconquerable by mortal flesh...an ethereal reverberation imperceptible to the mind yet irresistible to the soul.

How rare to have loved...to have truly loved in such a way that permits unconsecrated flesh to gaze fleetingly upon the glory of heaven and bask momentarily in the glow of immortality.

Yes my love, how fortunate are we to have loved and through loving became divinity's ephemeral manifestation.