Background

(I wrote this poem to my husband on a day when I was missing him. I wrote it on March 23, 2025.)

Another day. Another day without you—dreaming of your eyes, fingers touching me, lips brushing mine. How does one procure one's truest form of treasure? Its stale smell of rotten wood protects the trove inside from the unholy acts, those injurious attacks. Our journey through the providence of divine is laborious, seemingly bound by draconian laws. Josie de vivre—a whisper in the dark.

Where is our deus ex machina? Is it nestled in that Apollonian self, that cerebral pursuit of the divine? But hold, my love, this sojourn only heightens the indispensable need, Josie de vivre—for one another.

For when that day arrives—when fate unwinds, truly sets us free—Josie de vivre will bloom.

A whispered promise on the wind, it seems—a vibrant echo in our souls' deep core. No longer shackled by these cruel extremes, but you and I are free, forevermore—Josie de vivre.

The stagnant air, at last, will start to clear, with scents of lavender and flora near. The rotten wood will crumble into dust. Our treasures will be safe, banishing all fear, in Josie de vivre, we place our trust.

So let us patiently wait, with hearts strong and in concert, where love's origins create our beautiful, orchestral fate. For that celestial, long-awaited day will dawn, when love's true essence, immense in God's Grace, and Josie de vivre lights our way on.

I love you Michael I am forever yours

Dr. Kelsey Sylvara