Dearest Suniva: The Sacred Love Letter, Cornerstone of Our Civilization

“The Love Letter,” say the Keepers of the Oral Traditions of the Metaphysical Human Heart, “is our Rosetta Stone.”

The only favor she ever asked of him was to write her a love letter.

He wouldn’t do it.

He never did it.

But then he did.

When she read it, it broke her.

The Love Letter was written in indigo ink on an 8-1/2 X 11 sheet of premium printer paper folded in three sections and tucked into a business envelope sealed to the corners. On the front of the envelope in indigo ink was her name:

Suniva.

Dearest Suniva.

That is how the Love Letter began.

Dearest Suniva.

That is all we know of the Love Letter. The rest has been surmised through decades of scholarly research since its discovery at the Atlantis Dig. Most data pertaining to the Love Letter is sourced in the oral traditions of families whose chief occupation has for centuries been the preservation of the metaphysical human heart.

According to the Keepers of the Oral Traditions of the Metaphysical Human Heart, the Love Letter opened with an anecdote. A little story about the sender’s morning, which contained rain. A sentence or two to set the scene, so that the recipient could imagine him sitting down to write. Imagine him thinking of her, thinking of what to say.

With his indigo ballpoint pen he addressed his Dearest Suniva. His only Suniva, his darling Suniva, his Suniva forever and ever. The handwriting was flowing script, for he was of the morbid sort, and she the sort who longed to be imbibed.

There is some conflict on this point. Some Keepers of the Oral Traditions of the Metaphysical Human Heart insist that the Love Letter was written in the neat, block print of a successful IT engineer. Others passionately argue that it was the chicken scratch of a broke artist.

The Love Letter contained three fresh strawberries of the sweetest variety, the kind you can purchase only by the side of a highway. It also contained one bunch of grapes, plucked one by one and fed to a goddess. There was also a pomegranate, halved, its powerful seeds glistening amber in the sun by a tree by the lake in the summer.

The sentiments expressed in the Love Letter were born in the great hall of the great palace in little storybooks worn soft through years of “Read it again”, and the Love Letter whipped up stardust bouquets through ominous astrological constellations.

It quoted Yeates and also Dickinson, if tradition is correct.

These are the facts, as far as we know.

They who recount the nature of the Love Letter invariably – to a person – take on a rosy glow when doing so. Their eyes close to slits as a smile approaches the corners of their lips which, when opened to speak, give the listener the impression he is opening the Love Letter for the first time – and that he is she who first opened it untold eons ago.

The Love Letter, in addition to being the cornerstone of our modern era, is well understood to have been extremely sexy. The Keepers maintain that the recipient of the Love Letter turned white upon reading it, and died of empty veins. No evidence of a wound is mentioned in archaeological records.

The envelope and salutation of the Love Letter will be on display at the British Museum of Natural Love through Thursday, December 87th, 3045. Tickets: $140 million. Students and Seniors: $40 trillion. Telepath Joe Kearney, docent, for more information.

###

Dearest Suniva,

I love you so much, baby. Hope you’re having a nice day.

Love,
Joe Mann ;)

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