Desire, I think has less to do with possession than with participation, the will to involve oneself in the body of the world, in the principle of things expressing itself in splendid specificity, a handful of images: a lover's irreplaceable body, the roil and shimmer of sea overshot with sunlight, a handful of cherries, the texture and weight of a word. The word that seems most apt is partake; it comes from the Middle English, literally from the notion of being a part-taker, one who participates. We can say we take a part of something but we may just as accurately say we take part in something; we are implicated in another being, which is always the beginning of wisdom, isn't it -- that involvement which enlarges us, which engages the heart, which takes us out of the routine limitations of self?
The codes and laws fall away, useless, foolish, finally, hollow little husks of vanity.
The images sustain.
The images allow for desire, allow room for us -- even require us -- to complete them, to dream our way into them. I believe with all my heart that when the chariot came for Wally, green and gold and rose, a band of angels swung wide out over the great flanks of the sea, bearing him up over the path of light the sun makes on the face of the waters.
I believe my love is in the Jordan, which is deep and wide and welcoming, though it scours us oh so deeply. And when he gets to the other side, I know he will be dressed in the robes of comfort and gladness, his forehead anointed with spices, and he will sing -- joyful -- into the future, and back toward the darkness of this world.
from Mark Doty's book "Heaven's Coast"
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