From you

The news came in last night, and the least I can say is that I was no longer expecting them.
Maybe I shouldn't be proud of myself. What would the Lady of Mercy say to that? She would point out that I haven't kept my heart strong enough. And then, perhaps, she would admit that such is life, such is distance, such is time, such is... Well, now I say to myself: You promised him that time would not matter, didn't you? That distance was inexistent? That there was only one sky above the two of you, and so forth? You did write that, and you remember. And, sure enough, he does remember. It's not that you didn't keep your promise to him. It is just that you came pretty close to not keeping your promise to yourself.
But I do remember what was happening while, thousands of miles away, in a sizzling metropolis of East China, you were hitting the "send" button. I was lying on my bed, thinking of various longings, deceptions, treacheries, misfortunes big and small. I was sad but my mind went wandering around you. Where is he? I thought. Are we still connected? Do our thoughts still resound together like the strings of a lute? Do I still love him? And I realized: yes, I do. Most definitely. Oh, White Male Crane, here is a thing of wonder: you will always be there, close to me. The tides of life have not erased your presence, and they probably never will. Are you still there to comfort me? Do you still hold out white flowers for me? You do, I have to admit, I cannot doubt it. And I thought: White Male Crane, I may not be worthy of you, but I always thought that this love was living its own independent life, like a flame permanently maintained by your perseverance and my own. But lately I have been questioning my own perseverance. And, lying on my bed, I felt that it did not really matter if my perseverance was steady or wavering, because yours was like the Sun, and it took care of mine.
I also felt that it might well be possible that my perseverance had not been wavering. It had just gone underground, for self-protection. Then I stood up, went to my computer, and there it was, the blissful surprise.
What a difference! A message from you — in English. You tell me that you no longer work at the place where I met you. You're using a translation software, and you're beginning projects on your own with a friend.
Excellent news. You end the message by saying that you think of me too.
Had I ever really hoped for that?
Had I ever thought, frankly, that one day you might write me such a thing?
Such happiness, such a feeling of light and miraculous serenity. I never thought that could be possible. I felt, I assumed that you might love me too, but those violent pangs of love hitting me without notice were quite real — see, I was right. You have been thinking of me, you have been sending me your love through the air. I have never been fooling myself, when some friends around me thought I was. I am now telling myself that I was right, that I have not dreamed. And it is a wonderful feeling.
It is a feeling of gratitude. To Gods, to spirits, to the Light. But most of all to you, my dear. I am grateful to you. I admire you. I praise your courage and your purity, for not anyone can sustain such a relationship and find it in himself to keep it alive for so long, when there is so little to hold on to. I certainly can understand that, for we are in the same boat. I do know the value of your fortitude, and it is tremendous. The fuel of your friendship is of the very stuff Heaven is made of. I consider this in awe: what is happening now is a miracle, the proof that hopeless things are worth fighting for, that the craziest dreams can come true.
So I can add up to the joy of knowing that my feelings are shared the certainty that I have been right all along. The odds sure were against me. I will not even start naming them: they feel like the whole world, except for one spark of light. You always held that spark in your hand and I now have the proof of that. My dear friend, thank you.
When I started this blog, out of the overflowing pain of my heart, I was so far from believing that someday this would end well. But it is not ending. It is going on, it is only beginning, and there is happiness now. The male crane is now spreading his wings. We actually might share a mooncake someday.
Be well, dear friend of mine. Be happy, and be praised. For you are the right one, and I was perfectly right to fall in love with you and place my trust in you. You are gold, my dear. Your thoughts always came to me like spears of gold. Now I know why. Your kindness and your constance have helped fill this day to the rim with luscious, heavenly gold.