We prayed.

I'd prayed before we met.  Asked to be given whatever might be helpful.  Whatever might bring more to our time together.  That I get the fuck out of the way.

He's an artist, through and through, to the core.  A holy man, to boot.

I don't say that lightly.

He's got a native sense in matters of the spirit.

I'm not saying he isn't a train wreck.  He's fucked, just like you, just like me.

But he gets it, and gets it fast.  And when he gets clean his eyes shine bright, a deep yet brilliant blue.