Under the Roman moon

“Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, hate of my sin. Grounded on sinful loving” – W.S.

As a watchful eye the moon followed me home. I walked alone but something is still with me. Is it God? Is it love? Or is all the same?  I’m surrounded by its energy.

I walked in silence, just taking in the cold air of Rome in December, filled with the scent of this city. It was yet another night, but with every night this love was getting bigger. Like the moon above me.

Love is Love. Love is God. All types and kinds of Love. And this love I feel is undoubtedly Him, or because of Him.


We all come to God in a different way, but for me God is always Love. I heard people around me saying they have no faith, that they admire mine. But is not possible not to have faith. Although our faith can be placed in something different. I have mine placed in God, but not-believers do not exist. They have their faith placed in family, love, their mother, friends, their careers, in their children or their beloved one.

That love… is still faith. That faith and love is God.


But “us” is more than love. It’s adoration.

“Just the way he looked at me was in and of itself a prayer” – Celine Zabad

The eyes cannot lie, my friend tells me. Love cannot be hidden behind rationality. But how can it feel so meant to be when it is so sinful?


As I walked under the Roman almost-full moon that night I knew I had found him. Him and God. Both the same. Both Love.

With my heart on my hands once again, but like never before. It feels like heaven and hell at the same time. Not because I failed to find real love, but because I did. But he could never be mine the way I am his.


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