My Beloved, I chased after you as you took the form of other people who seemed to have something that I did not – money, good looks, happiness, the promise of romantic love.
I was rejected by you time and time again.
My Beloved, I then chased after you, thinking that you would save me from the rejection.
But you were not there, and so all I felt was the pain of that rejection.
My Beloved, in my pain, I then chased after you as you took the form of drugs and alcohol, but you fooled me again.
You weren’t in those forms at all.
You left me high and dry.
I crashed hard, spiraling down into a pit of my own vomit, screaming at you in anger each morning from my hellish hangover.
My Beloved, with my head spinning and my gut in withdrawal, I then chased after you in my sobriety.
You became the irresistible sweetness of sugar on my tongue, the sexy flesh of strange men in the night, and eager ears that heard my songs of sorrow but never lifted me out of it.
My Beloved, in my sorrow, I then chased after you in the hope of enlightenment.
You fooled me again.
There was no such thing.
You left me hopeless.
My Beloved, in my hopelessness, I found you.
It seemed you had been there the whole time, waiting for me to wake up from my slumber of chasing empty mirages.
My Beloved, in the blissful ecstasy of waking up, you gave me the inspiration to write thousands of love letters to you.
A million words expressing how wonderfully divine you are.
But then the words began to look like empty mirages . . . .
My Beloved, you finally showed me that you too are an empty mirage.
This has been your greatest gift so far, for now I see that everything is an empty mirage and I find you in each one of them.