I am in the beginning, It will never end

It was the beginning, standing there in front of one hundred and twenty nervous people, strung out with their arms aching as the camera waited for the light to get just right, for the balance of reciprocity to align itself with light in his eyes.

The nuptials came with a hint of Buddhism. He found that marriage fit him well, and that the day after, the ring cemented his love in a way that launched it from the grey area mid-stomach area of eternity up through the esophagus and to the point where romance fit in, and lodged permanently somewhere in the upper hippo-campus.

He felt grounded, in the way that electrical systems in Hollywood harlots' homes are, so rarely trimmed, but checked-up on enough to base a more innocent option to that which is uniformly felt.

He felt grand in the hot tub on that day, looking down through the Portland streets, and feeling the warmth that started in his solar- plexus, and on through the lower level of sky than hung with high ceilings, twelve, fifteen feet above the latest high point.

In moments of his greatest happiness, he had an urge to let it all go, by letting it run out through his mind, letting it go, through the stars, without anyone but his own happiness.

She came out in the general sense of the word.

Her warm, soft skin continued to provide an everlasting architecture that proceeded to lead him to believe that his life had taken a permanent supportive route, and that by some sort of unimaginable being, he was happy, loved, and understood.