felted and soft

he is always weeping, at least in my visions. he weeps for joy and pain alike, and his eyes always lacquered with the silver of sea-salt tears. he wrapped me up last night, in the dark cathedral, he held me. with his ineffable everything, he wrapped me up in a long, beautiful, and crimson scarf of the softest combed and felted wool. this is far more than love. this is everything, the whole world and yet none of it, a smile and a frown, a kiss, a sigh, a tree's low swinging branches, intangible, ethereal, and at the same time, sweetly-softly-gently-passionately all mine.