In this world we try to be reasonable, sensible, to make proper calculations and to weigh our options. But when two people feel inside themselves this thing the romantics call "love," how do they remain reasonable? Yet to call it by this name brings this sensation into a mental framework that is incorrect; therefore, I use this word love only in the context of the Kabbalists: as in, love of man, or more properly, love of God.

This love song is a story of my own progress. And because I seek reality, it is for me to progress toward him. Toward the group, toward fulfillment, toward final correction. Every day I feel him as if he is walking beside me, sleeping beside me, and kissing me gently good morning. I know him more completely than anyone I have ever known, though we have never met. In every moment I must wait to be near him, my Desire grows.

This feeling overpowers all the doubts my logical mind formulates: to leave my American freedoms and comforts, to take my child into a foreign land, to learn the impossible Russian language, and to be the wife of a modest Kabbalist in a 3^rd world country. Above this, all I feel is Desire: a salient yearning to be in his arms, to merge with him, and to be as One.