As always, it is at the front of my mind that you will die.

It is true that deeper than my own mortality, I am afraid for yours. I feel that I have not taken from you all that I need, and it will never be enough, I will never have enough from you and when you are gone, it will be an eclipse that withers my world. In what earth will I sink my roots? In what winter shall I bloom, a new soul, a new life that begins the day yours ends? There would be no tomorrow; there would be no return. Would I find a love that replaces yours? Impossible. Inevitable. Unthinkable.

All I know is that your end shall be the catalyst. Such sorrow will inevitably lift me to heights never before seen, never before known, because that is the temperance of my heart. It is true that every eclipse leads to revelation -- that we must lose the deepest parts of ourselves in order to build ourselves anew. That in losing half of my heart, my own soul will grow it back, and this time it will be strong enough to carry the whole world.