And then they make their early diagnosis.
They look at you and detect you.
They land in your little world like Columbus in America. But they don’t conquer you. They don’t plunder you. They don’t even deceive you.
They only bring love in pots. And they do what they have to do for you. For your soul. For your pain.
Because you wanted to find something else in life. Some men know. I still don’t know. I haven’t suspected it yet.
Even without being fully aware of their importance. They know with a different wisdom. They smile with different smiles.
They speak in different words. They work magic. There are men like that. I swear to you. I’ve seen them. I know them. I watch them play.
From afar or up close. I admire them. Sometimes I let myself be excited by them. Because they hold art in their hands. They open you up. And you don’t suspect anything for a second.
Because they are friends. But they are not ordinary friends. They are strange friends. They are friends from elsewhere. They are companions of stars.
They arrive. They do. They say. Look. Come. They won’t always love you. They won’t always love you the way you want them to love you.
You won’t always love them the way they want you to love them. It’s something else. Something else. They will arrive to fulfill their destiny.
They will arrive to improve your life for a while. To do you a favor for a while. To make a pact. Because they are something else.
Deeper. Stranger. More capable of staying inside you. Because these men will live in those places where you let no one in. Because you will remain in them like a girl gazing at the sea on the beach at night.
There are men who come to repair the women who repair. Because they were born for that. To heal those who heal.
To heal those who heal. Because we are partners. Beloved. Lovers. In love.
And when two such lovely companions cross paths, meet, entwine, love each other in their own way, the universe celebrates.
The universe thanks you, and so do you.
