I write, not as a man, rather as one living in a delusion, caught in the painful grip between life and love; one besieged on all sides by fate, longing, sorrow and hope. It is a woman I speak of, one unlike any other…the same story told throughout time. And just like Romeo did after staring at Juliet, I find myself asking….have I ever loved before? Have I ever breathed so deeply or dared climb such mountain tops so as to witness the fullness and splendor of the world, where one wrong step, one single slip would break one’s heart, dashing it upon the earth below.
Like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, man and God ever reaching for one touch, one longful gaze between Adam and his maker, simply to feel such love, such bliss, if even only for a moment.
My dear reader, I have been Adam’s finger and I speak now of that moment, when dream’s dreams have come to pass and the sweet nectar of the gods has coursed through my veins. I now do my feeble best to put pen to paper, to speak that which cannot be spoken, to describe that which is without description.