I will not tarry long here. Did you hear me say so? I was hoping you heard that in my song Heir To The Kingdom. I will not wed again. I have had my true love and if he will have me back I will return to him. He is never far even in death. I wish I had treated him with more understanding when he was here in the flesh. He is very forgiving though.

Yet he knows I am to travel in my studies and alone. My returning has nothing to do with wedded bliss or romantic notions, nor even intellectual striving. It has to do with our comfort in one another and lack of conflict therein, our congeniality, our silent knowing of one another.

I  long not for the tender kiss of a lover nor his breath on a moonlite night, nor do I expect avowals of dedication to go between myself and another or any of the world’s lovers. I no longer expect that happiness can be found on this planet as regarding a fixation on one person. Happiness is an inside job. If I experienced disappointment with my very own soul mate, then you see, this planet is not about congenial relationships of wedded bliss. It is about the struggle of creating that relationship which is desired; it is not a given. Everything has been given you. You too, I know experienced a soul mate’s love. That is grand. It is as if you think it should come easy. That is how I read your book. It just happened you said. Good fortune fell from the sky. Maybe so. I rather think you are not giving people enough credit for believing in you and assisting your good fortune. I laud the young lovers still, in all gaiety and well wishes I hope their experiences with marriage is different than mine.

I know my pathway is tailor made for me and so it must be so for all the lovers and singletons the same. It is OK to bow out. It is OK to be a singleton.

On the main, I am happy. I am complacent. I have lived as fully as I dared, I have done all I came to do. It is not a world of loving kindness, this was apparent from the start. Of that we may agree, If you would desire to know me, I suppose I would have made an excellent Kamikaze pilot, exchanging this world for the next in a heartbeat with no regrets whatsoever.

You my dear, represent the world, and this in your own words, while I see myself representing the next world. I once worshipped your work. I see now, it was your work I worshipped, not the man himself. This man I saw only in dreams, that he wore your face, and even on occasion he wore another face, it seemed purposefully to fool me.

Later I saw you never spoke of your work. It was like you struggled to see the effect on the world your work brought. It was like you didn’t understand your own gifts. I wanted to help you understand your work was a gift to the world, but you wanted me, you did not want my gratitude or verbiage, you’d heard it all before. Still I found a way to talk to you through articles and you even responded briefly to me. Thanks. That was quite a day.

You hid from me behind the cloak of your many characters. You could be anyone you wanted, like you could slip into somebody Else’s body and be them, anyone but the one I had known, the one who had produced works of art yet never spoke of that. For how could you speak of your art without giving yourself away?

You expected me to honor and respect and have dialogue with all these many people you were. You thought my love should be so deep for you that I would expend all my energy to these people that you hid behind. Refer now to your dream of the woman who waited behind the door. She was I.

No, I am not loyal to that degree, to respond to your many disguises with equanimity, wisdom and poise.
I do not play charades well. You do not understand the impact of your work. Now, it means very little to me what used to mean so much. I am leaving you behind and crossing the bridge; the bridge I asked you to cross with me, and you refused.

I was frustrated then but knew I had to go on. I could not change your mind. You wanted to stay and so who am I to say you should follow me?

I will not ask for an apology but I will give one to you. To say I am so sorry for having bothered you at all. It must have been my fault somehow. Perhaps I will be shown later on that I interfered in your life and how I could have done better. Or perhaps instead I will be shown to be guiltless and also why things happen as they do, and how we are all guiltless.

I wanted you to find love. I thought as long as you were searching, you would never find love. I thought you needed to stop searching so that it could come to you on it’s own. I was one with Kahlil of course. I still am. If I am worthy of a companion of gentle merit, I need not search for it. It would be written into my horoscope long before my birth. However, I am not in charge of my life to that degree.

For my troubles, I was perceived as quaint but of course quite feminine, I heard one of your personages say, therefore cute. I am not cute really. It’s merely a front. I enjoy making others happy and making them laugh. It’s strictly entertainment. It’s a role. It’s not a reason for staying here. Did I tell you the time you sent messengers to me? No I never got the opportunity.

 You sent me a package, of your work. However, I looked inside the package, which had been so carefully wrapped, and there was nothing there. Nothing at all. Like our relationship, empty as a drum of meaning. The messengers did not want to even deliver this non-gift to me and argued among themselves which one would deliver the bad news.
They knew I would be upset that you had not come in person to me, and also that there was nothing but an empty package from you, and you went to all the trouble of wrapping the thing so well. Well, darn, it just goes to show if you want something done, better do it in person and not make someone else deliver the goods.

My wishes for you hold yet some sadness, as I perceive myself as a failure in regards to communicating with you that I am leaving this world before you do. I have already ascended in many ways.

Many days I have to jar myself awake, to ground into the physical world and I say to myself, oh, where am I? Oh yes, I am still in the body, but soon, I will not be in the body, I will be in my real home. It has always been to me, that the world is unreal.

I don’t belong here anymore. It really doesn’t have much to do with former idols who gave me distraction and pleasure at one time. My thoughts are leaving your areas that you play in still. Nothing you do or say has any meaning to me because my eyes are fastened on another world, where I came from. I do not say these things to hurt you. I say them because there is nothing else I know to say. I have no hope of being understood. I still have hope of understanding others though, and you.

I cannot create what I cannot imagine can be true, or what was true in the past, I cannot revisit something that happened to make it true once more. Why would I want to go back to be what I was in the past?

If you had told me who you were from the start, things may have turned out differently. I don’t know for sure though. You could not give me what I needed the most. I understand. It was an impossible thing to ask I suppose.
You’re too far up to risk stooping down so low just for the sake of honest communication. It would have been a supreme act of faith and trust to give forth of your real identity.

Yet you had an idea I knew who you were, so you felt it was OK to continue the disguises unabated or tempered with truth. Yes I had a clue here and there. Yet to what end was this charade? Where would it go, and when would it end? That was my question that I couldn’t ask.
Ten years have gone by, and before that another ten years had gone by, and still we played in the underworld of the astral, where nothing is real, but possibly more real than what we have made here together.

I congratulate myself sometimes, perhaps this is silly, that I may have helped you in your work, all quite behind the scenes of course, as a former agreement, it should be thus, this on a spirit level, and so contributed to your successful works of art. It must have been a soul agreement. Certainly, it has nothing to do with my memory of you and I, either in times gone by or here and now.

I do so hope I am correct. It would make up for the pain I’ve experienced and even your pain perhaps. Now I’m in a hurry to get home. it’s going to be a glorious homecoming. I can feel it in my bones. I wish I could share my happiness with you. Truly, how odd it seems, that we may be living somewhere else, you and I, a twosome, and we may be remembering these other people, that we are them also. I must be going mad to think that! Yet in some way, I understand it. That there are other dimensions and all storybook people live there thinking themselves quite jolly well alive.

perhaps we will chat then? Another time and place, and with counsel no doubt! And both of us be in perfect understanding of one another? That would be nice.

Should we do so, I feel we will not make a habit of it and I apologize for my extreme independent nature. Once more I say I want what’s best for you, but I cannot be your lover. I do belong to God, not to the world at large.
I go where I am sent. I leave when I am told to leave.
I am not independent from God.

You are not God my friend. You are a man such as many men I have known. You have led a touched life and in my way, I have been touched also.

I am glad that you have shared yourself with the world.
Do be kind to all you meet for you know not the burden they carry. I thank you for your time. Remember me in love is my wish I hope you will grant.