_Love_

This thing that must be written is to be written by me today. I must write it for every person writes it or paints it or draws it or at least feels it once. I have felt it and I must go through with it's compulsions in the only way I know to do so. 1

This thing that must be written is written now. This thing that must be said can no longer be kept inside of me. This thing, this thing called love. I have felt it before but never so strongly as now. I have seen it before but never so brightly as now. This is my destiny, this is my being put down upon paper, this is me in my element. I know not when, and I know not how; but it shall be.2

This thing called love invades my mind, it blots out my senses. It is like a drug which, in numbing my body, enables me to feel more powerfully and recognize things for what they truly are. I see him for what he truly is, but more importantly I see him for what he wishes to be. Or at the very least what he wishes me to believe he wishes to be. That is enough for me. If perception is reality then isn't what people ask you to percieve them as really what they are? At what point to I stop pretending to be something I'm not and become something I'm not? And then am I that thing? His memory burns a hole in my mind, bringing up so many questions. Yet in his presence it seems that he brings about all the answers! I know that this feeling is right, and that it is true. It may be the only thing I am sure of outside of myself (or indeed inside myself), but I am sure of it nonetheless. I used to write quite differently about love:3

(1 year ago)4

This thing I write, I do not know who I write it for. hers is a love song and it is written to him that is to come. It is written to him that is to steal my heart and free my soul.But I am not sure that he is there, my heart longs to feel his touch, my eyes long to look into his soul. I feel the need to be loved, but ordinary love (if love can be called such) can not suffice. This love I need is the love of a god. This love I feel must be the love of my soulmate. For the lover of words there is no other, for the lover of love, there is him. This cry goes out to the masses: Who are you? Who shall you be? Though he make take many faces, or no face at all, I know he is there. I know this and this is what keeps me alive! This is what keeps me going, this pending acceptance of who I am makes me able to continue to be who I am. 5

Today6

Today I know that he is there, I know his face and the feel of his touch. I know the sight of his soul and the crooked smile that sends shivers up my spine. Now. Now I feel the power coursing through my blood. I feel it deep within my heart. Now I must push... I must let it out and I must let it be known!! Let it be known that I am in love! I feel his love radiate down upon me like the warmth of the sun. I used to see a blank where his face should be, now I see him there. With her I can read the words that are not yet written, and take them as my own and write them for her. 7

You do not understand me? You do not know how this is possible? Imagine a sculptor standing before a block of wood or marble. He sees what you cannot see. He sees that he must not create any new art, but simply chip away the pieces that are obstructing our view. He sees the statue inside the block, and it is his job to allow us to see it as well. I sit before my computer screen, the cursor blinks and moves forward a letter folowing it always. I do not write, I simply move the cursor forward, discovering for you what is already there. You still do not think this is possible? 8

The truth.9

Neither do I but I know in my heart that it is true. I know that this is crazy and that is why it is right. I know this is it, this is the love that crushes wars, the love that breaks rules, this is the love which cannot be stopped by anyone; even if it be the two who are in love. This is that which must be loved, for if this love is not felt, what is the point of living? What is the point of going on? The point is this: to find that love. To feel that promise of faith. To recieve that which is yet to be given, and to love her that you thought you might never meet. 10

I know I love you and if you are him, then you will know. Because this is true, this is right and this is love in it's purest form. How can one resist such a feeling? I have been alive but a short time, I have loved but a small amount. There are many things that I do not know. There are many things that I do not know that I do not know them. But I do know this: Love is the one thing that validates our existence. We know what love is if we can only feel it. We know that if we are in love then we have fulfilled our reason for being here. Love is all there is. Love and pursuit of love. Love is the one pursuit which you cannot catch, unless you stop trying to catch it. Love is why we are alive. Love is why we continue to live. Do you believe that the reason we are alive is merely to sustain life? Do you really think that? I tell you now it is a lie! The reason we live is simple, to love and to be loved! What else but to love? What else but to dream? What else but to find one to share that love with and to continue to share that love with until one or both can no longer live? And beyond that they will be together because love ties living and dead. Love ties everyone and everything! There may not be a god. But there is a heaven! Heaven is that mystical place created by the ties between beings in love. Though those ties may have been strained by death, they are reforged there, in a more perfect bond than ever possible on earth. 11

I look up to the stars sometimes and ask for guidance. I know I am heard because this guidance always comes, be it like the wind as it whispers in the trees or plays with the grass in the fields. The answer comes so very, very softly. I hear the word which solves all problems "love". And this is true, for to love is to be and to be is to love. Love is that which makes us human. Love is that which makes us devine. To love is to hold on to forever. Once someone is loved they are no longer a simple person, they are a god. hey becoe immortal because they are emblazoned upon the soul of thier lover until the end of all things. FOREVER.12

I was very young when my mother died, but to this day I remember the lesson that she taught. She taught me to love, and to stop at nothing to show that I loved. She taught me to live and to love in that life.She taught me this so that When I may die i will be able to look back and say, "Look at my life, and you find that I have loved. I have loved regardless of circumstance or of time, or of distance. I looked for love in every person I met, and I found that love. I found that one love which I was to spend my entire life looking for, and my entire life loving." This is what is to be found at my journey's end.13

Though I stand before all of my enemies, though I find myself alone against the horde. I will not be defeated, I know what will happen. I will raise my sword, glittering in pale beauty, and I will whisper his name into the sky. Then and there all of my enemies shall be vanquished, for against the power of love they can have no defense. It is he that I fight for now, it is he that I fought for yesterday, it is he that I will fight for tommorow. He knows who he is. Everday for me is like a fight; a fight against depression, against myself, against anger, against sorrow and greed. Thus far I have won this fight, and now that he is here with me I cannot be overtaken. 14

I believe in him as he believes in me, I love him as I know he loves me. Before I was born my soul was torn into two pieces. One piece was given to me, the other was placed into the body of someone. I used to search for that person among those that I did not know. Then one day I turned to face him as I had every day before, and he looked different to me. I can see my reflection in his eyes. I can see the other part of my soul staring back at me, with just as much love returned as is given. My soul mate. 15

Odd it is that my life should become but a quest for love, odd it is that my honor should show itself in the face of horrible events, odd it is that this writing may be my last or it may be my first. But it must be written. All I ask is all that I offer: love. All I ask is love, all I own is my soul. You know who you are... I offer it to you. 16