Dear Diary; the Words of the Beloved

When you first start to read all you see are letters making up words,
you don’t see the words,
the page is just full of letters strung together.
Then you learn the sounds,
the way those strung-together letters should sound when you say them.
Then words start to become meanings as you learn definitions.
Sentences begin to pull together to become thoughts.
Thoughts come together, meld into each other or build up to make sense of the world,
and if you read the best of words they start to light the heart.
They’re not just letters anymore, filling up a page.
They’re inspiration, uplifting and alive.

These are the layers of worship.
You learn the rules, you see them like strung-together letters.
Even before you begin to learn their meanings, you have to content yourself in repeating them over and over again
to form the habit of memory.
To form the virtues of discipline.
Then the meanings come to light.
You build your understanding by putting them together;
by acting, by thinking, by learning more.
These actions move you, you start to see the patterns.
You always find something new, you realise you’ll never find the end,
you’ll never know it all.
But that is not what you want anyway, anymore.
You want to feel the love of those pages, behind those pages, above those pages.
Then the world releases you and you hold it in your hand, to turn over and open as you please,
like a book.
But of course that last stage is only for the fiercest lovers.
And I’m just describing what I’ve learnt is the ultimate aspiration.

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