An Uncommon Connection: A Love Letter to Your Soul

Hello my Angel,

First of all, I’m fine. No need to worry about me and my material life. I have shelter, water, food, don’t need much clothing since I work mostly from home and sleep comes when most of the earth’s population is busy making noise around them. That’s fine with me as long as I can create. That’s all I have. Creation, connection and contribution.

When the night owls begin to hoot their horns, I sit down at the desk where the midnight light glows bright as the sun. I am never alone mentally as there are always others on the other side. Most of the time they can’t hear me. We speak, but the words have divergent meanings. They hurt, twist and turn around the cables, and instead of a message signifying soul healing, misinterpretation hangs on the line. It’s alright, we are mainly bodies at childbearing age, which is us women, although I’ve never thought of myself that way. I heard you don’t want any more children. I never wanted them anyway, because I can’t decide on someone’s life. It’s unfair.

You see, I can see you differently than others, on a deeper level. Your soul touches mine and then they dance in the air like two fireflies, burning each other up. It gives extra wings to my moony moth, lifts it far across the ocean and drops it there unconditionally. There is no mercy for the condemned like me, although your modesty as a salt of the earth kind of guy has been boldly confirmed so many times.

I suffer whenever there is too much noise or too much… hmm, trying to find the right word… brusqueness? It doesn't concern you because you're an angel. You always keep your head above the water and within a reasonable range from the rage. And then your soul can shine. I am not sure you are fully aware of these abilities that you naturally possess and how they resonate with me. It gives me instant inner sparks. Perhaps this is the result of the huge number of cigarettes smoked. I don't condone it, but I understand.

What I really wanted to say is that I feel your soul. I can hear it speaking to me, this language incomprehensible to others. Yet I can hear it. I've spent most of my life in my head, so that's probably why I can pick up signs that some people don't even suspect exist. But this is the opposite of life. This fact will not bring me closer to you, and this extraordinary bond we have is formed in my head, but exists every time I have a chance to talk to you. I can't address these words directly to you. It would be the end of me as a body. Or maybe not? There are a whole fleet of reasons why I shouldn't have and just as many reasons why I should reveal my pent-up feelings. Which way to go? I never know. I haven't decided yet. I only considered rejection as the one certainty that my soul could not contain. It's the only thing I fear the most.

So, is it love, or a friendship, or just a soul connection as common as others I've had in my life, but without full realisation on the part of the other? I think you can feel it too, but in most cases, life is more important than the soul, and no one does things for reasons beyond the obvious. I do. But only if others let me. Will you let me?

They say keep your body and soul together to stay alive. I die every time I meet you, when my soul is elated and my body lifeless. Perhaps that’s why you merely look at me as I devour you to satiate my soul.

I guess I’m only writing to reach you, that’s all, not to fall into despair, otherwise you wouldn’t know that my soul clung to yours since I started to lose grip. I want you to know that when you read this. But will you ever open this letter?

The Ground Beneath My Feet, 25 January 2023

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.