Transcendental Endings is a love letter, written in the style of Feminine Endings by Neil Gaiman.
My darling, I believe it is customary to begin a letter such as this formally, as a declaration in the old-fashioned way.
I love you.
You know this. Indeed, not a solitary day has passed which hasn’t been densely populated with these three little words. Sometimes they’re spoken literally, others demonstrated by actions, but not a second has passed whereby they haven’t been felt with the entirety of my heart. So I do declare myself to you now with quill set to parchment. I declare it again. I love you.
I have put off writing this for some time now, although I have wanted to, although I have composed it many times in my head. Indeed, it was my primary consideration when recently asking you to be my wife. However, it just didn’t feel the right time. After all, anyone familiar with “Feminine Endings” by the glorious Neil Gaiman will be more than aware how I am consciously riffing a theme here and this was not how I wished to request your hand in marriage. Given that I’m a wordsmith by trade and never short of a stanza or two when speaking from the soul, it seemed unthinkable to attempt this then. Besides, while Neil reads his love letter beautifully, they are ultimately his words. His love. His declaration. And you deserve so very much more than a mere recital. Instead, we have listened to his affectionate ode more times than we care to mention, and each time I have felt a little more compelled to undertake this particular journey.
Any parallels between the two works are entirely intentional as I believe our spiritual guides have and hold a similarly remarkable love. That being said, this is where I begin to stray a little from the formula. You see, while our love is just as sweet and understated as theirs, it is also very much its own entity. And the word that instantly springs to mind is “transcendental”. When you first suggested our love to be “more than a love”, I was unfamiliar with the source of this prose. I really am shocking when it comes to reading, so much so that even the words of the great Edgar Allan Poe have managed to largely pass me by until now. It’s most uncommon for a scribe to be pretty much allergic to literature but I’ve always been such a visual creature and my own writing style has been wholly self-taught. But instantaneously I knew this was true. Indeed, I already knew as much prior to this admittance, just hadn’t quite found the words with which to vocalize it.
It’s funny how quickly your entire thought process can be completely disrobed and regarmented through the tiniest little thing like a single chance meeting. The universe evidently had grand plans for us and, while it had done a fairly lousy job of revealing the blueprints prior to December the 12th, 2017 at approximately 1 a.m. United Kingdom time, it got there in the end, bless it. Neither of us were looking, at least not actively. But both of us were more than willing to entertain the notion that we had finally located our Twin Flame. Life had tried every cruel trick to destroy our softness by this point and, had it gone on any longer, then the darkness may have been too all-encompassing to spot one another’s lights. But there was plenty poetic about the manner in which we punched the stopwatch. And poetry has been the keyword ever since.
In addition to unlocking the eighteenth-century laureate within me, life itself has attained a sense of grandiose verse. For as significant as our toils and pains may be, there is a sweet chorus which runs right through it like a river. I feel seen, truly seen, for the very first time in love. Not just the parts that appeal, all of them – whether considered becoming or unsightly. To you, each of them is beautiful, and this has empowered me to reveal all sides without so much as a token fear of being cast aside. There is no other way to achieve Crystalline dimensions than to trust love sufficiently to be utterly transparent in its presence. And every last one of my frailties was reflected straight back to me in a split second or less. Better yet, so were my strengths and this is where the truest love is headed for the heavens and beyond.
As we’ve spoken about many times, the most important person in any loving relationship should always be the other party. And this couldn’t be less of a one-sided transaction, contrary to what cynics would have us believe. By loving each other more than we’ve ever been loved in our lives, we’re providing ourselves the ideal opportunity to be loved right back the right way. Should one be flagging, then the other knows precisely how to pick up the reins and steer the vessel to safety. And the true beauty is that this remains largely unspoken. It just is. Organic but then much more than that. We have proved time and again that our bond originates from another place and time entirely. Given that we’re both Artists, we’re in the very best place to be able to explore this anomaly together. Every last expression has infinite meaning, every fusion crackles with an electricity no longer static, and the results have us both dumbfounded at regular intervals. Totally transcendental of ending. Each is merely a prelude to an even greater surge forthcoming.
If I could, I would have made the paper for this letter to you out of my body. But here’s the thing. I have. It is my blood and spittle you see before you, my flesh and bones used to bind the pages. It is all of me as I know not how to give anything less than everything where you are concerned, my darling. More seems to be the operative word here and, trust me, I’d pop out both my eyeballs for use as paperweights if it weren’t for the fact that they’re now yours too. Everything is. From the beautifully odd mind tucked away beneath the cranial crust, to the weary body which is still very much a repair in progress, to the heart which has endured the most ferocious of storms to beat for you alone, and the luminescent soul which mirrors your own exquisitely. Combined we are one big gesture, the grandest no less. And this love letter is just a tiny example of just how grandiose this love of ours is. Nothing more. But then so very much more.
I am here with you. Even now. And I have covered so much ground to arrive at the place I now stand, no longer slouched and disheveled, but proud and somewhat dashing. I’ve been to Hell and back, even picked up a souvenir while on my travels, and that magnificent memento my darling, is you. You see, for all the miles I have covered during the countless punishing pilgrimages which led me directly to your front door, none have boasted anything like this kind of transcendental significance. None have taught me more about myself, none have unlocked more of the true potential within me, none have felt so serene or free of peril, but by far most critically, none have included you. Now they do. And I only needed to move just a fraction to finally be seen.
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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