A Z A V A T H

Love works in favor of death. Harvesting souls restlessly  and in vain. For everything must sink into the heart of the Earth, just as everything must reemerge from it.

“The mystery of love is the aspiration to annihilation. The one who loves, Leopardi says, is the one who understands the nobility of death. Every creature, Leonardo da Vinci says, aspires to its death. In reality, every soul, whatever it is, aims towards a better life through death. The earthly life is succession of metamorphoses. It is so each day, each month, each year. In each year, the living is stripped of one form to adopt a more perfect one. […] To a more profound metamorphosis must correspond, according to the universal law that is analogy, a passage to an existence of a superior order and finally a passage from the finite to the infinite, from the relative to the absolute.”

I will hurl your fear into the abyss of your pleasure. My tongue in your blood. […] The swooning drunkenness of our destinies.

"I shall be waiting for you. You know that when you come home, weary, with blood on your hands, I shall be waiting there among the birches. You will rest your head in my lap, and I shall kiss your burning forehead and wash the blood from you. I shall be waiting, and I shall love you."

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling…”