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 Evening Star

There was, as in the fairy tales,
As ne'er in the time's raid,
There was, of famous royal blood
A most beautiful maid.

She was her parents' only child,
Bright like the sun at noon,
Like the Virgin midst the saints
And among stars the moon.

From the deep shadow of the vaults
Her step now she directs
Toward a window; at its nook
Bright Evening-star expects.

She looks as in the distant seas
He rises, darts his rays
And leads the blackish, loaded ships
On the wet, moving, ways.

To look at him every night
Her soul her instincts spur;
And as he looks at her for weeks
He falls in love with her.

And as on her elbows she leans
Her temple and her whim
She feels in her heart and soul that
She falls in love with him.

And ev'ry night his stormy flames
More stormily renew
When in the shadow of the castle
She shows to his bright view.

And to her room with her slow steps
He bears his steps and aims
Weaving out of his sparkles cold
A toil of shaking flames.

And when she throws upon her bed
Her tired limbs and reposes,
He glides his light along her hands
And her sweet eyelash closes.

And from the mirror on her shape
A beam has spread and burns,
On her big eyes that beat though closed
And on her face that turns.

Her smiles view him; the mirror shows
Him trembling in the nook
For he is plunging in her dream
So that their souls may hook.

She speaks with him in sleep and sighs
While her heart's swelled veins drum:
-"O sweet Lord of my fairy nights,
Why comest thou not? Come!

Descend to me, mild Evening-star
Thou canst glide on a beam,
Enter my dwelling and my mind
And over my life gleam!"

And he listens and trembles and
Still more for her love craves
And as quick as the lightning he
Plunges into the waves.

The water in that very spot
Moves rolling many rings
And out of the unknown, dark, depth
A superb young man springs.

As on a threshold o'er the sill
His hasty steps he leads,
Holds in his hand a staff with, at
Its top, a crown of reeds!

A young Voivode he seems to be
With soft and golden hair;
A blue shroud binds in a knot on
His naked shoulder fair.

The shade of his face is of wax
And thou canst see throughout -
A handsome dead man with live eyes
That throw their sparkles out.

-"From my sphere hardly I come to
Follow thy call and thee,
The heaven is my father and
My mother is the sea.

So that I could come to thy room
And look at thee from near
With my light reborn from waves my
Fate toward thee I steer.

O come, my treasure wonderful
And thy world leave aside;
For I am Evening-star up from
And thou wouldst be my bride.

In my palace of coral I'll
Take thee for evermore
And the entire world of the sea
Will kneel before thy door."

-"O thou art beautiful as but
In dreams an angel shows,
The way though thou hast oped for me
For me's for ever close.

Thy port and mien and speech are strange
Life thy gleams don't impart,
For I'm alive and thou art dead
And thy eyes chill my heart."

Days have past since: but Evening-star
Comes up againd and stays
Just as before, spreading o'er her
His clear, translucent rays.

In sleep she would remember him
And, as before, her whole
Wish for the Master of the waves
Is clinching now her soul.

-"Descend to me, mild Evening-star
Thou canst glide on a beam,
Enter my dwelling and my mind
And over my life gleam!"

He hears: and from the dire despair
Of such an woeful weird
He dies, and the heavens revolve
Where he has disappeared.

Soon in the air flames ruddy spread,
The world in their grip hold;
A superb form the spasms of the
Chaotic valleys mold.

On his locks of black hair he bears
His crown a fierce fire frames;
He floats as he really comes
Swimming in the sun's flames.

His black shroud lets develop out
His arms marbly and hale;
He pensively and sadly brings
His face awfully pale.

But his big wonderful eyes' gleam,
Chimerically deep,
Shows two unsatiated spasms
That but into dark peep.

-"From my sphere hardly I come to
Follow thy voice, thy sight;
The bright sun is my father and
My mother is the night.

O come, my treasure wonderful
And thy world leave aside
For I am Evening-star from up
And thou wouldst be my bride.

O come, and upon thy blond hair
Crowns of stars I shall crowd,
And more that all of them, up there,
Thou wild look fair and proud."

-"O thou art beautiful as but
In dreams a demon shows,
The way though hast oped for me
For me's for ever close.

The depths of my breast ache from the
Desire of thy fierce love
My heavy, big eyes also ache
When into them thine shove".

-"But how wouldst thou that I come down?
Know this - for, do I lie? -:
I am immortal, while thou art
One of those that must die!"

-"I hate big words, nor do I know
How to begin my plea;
And although thy discourse is clear
I don't understand thee.

But if thou wantest my flamed love
And that would not be sham,
Come down on this temporal earth,
Be mortal as I am!"

-"I'd lose my immortality
For but one kiss of thine!
Well, I will show thee how much too
For thy fierce love I pine!

Yes, I shall be reborn from sin,
Receive another creed:
From that endlessness to which I
Am tied, I shall be freed!"

And out he went, he went, went out,
Loving a human fay,
He plucked himself off from the sky,
Went for many a day.


Meanwhile, the house-boy, Catalin,
Sly, and who often jests
When he's filling with wine the cups
Of the banqueting guests;

A page that carries step by step
The trail of the Queen's gown,
A wandering bastard, but bold
Like no one in the town;

His little cheek - a peony
That under the sun stews;
Watchful, just like a thief, he sneaks
In Catalina's views.

-"How beautiful she grew" - thinks he -
"A flower just to pluck!
Now, Catalin, but now it is
Thy chance to try thy luck!"

And by the way, hurriedly, he
Corners that human fay:
-"What's with thee, Catalin? Let me
Alone and go thy way!"

-"No! I want thee to stay away
From thoughts that have no fun
. I want to see thee only laugh,
Give me a kiss, just one!"

-"I don't know what it is about
And, believe me, retire!
But for one Evening-star up from
I've kept my strong desire!"

-"If thou dost not know I could show
Thee all about love's balm!
Only, don't give way to thy ire
And listen and be calm.

So as the hunter throws the net
That many birds would harm,
When I'll stretch my left arm to thee,
Enlace me with thy arm.

Under my eyes keep thine and don't
Let them move on their wheels
And if I lift thee by the waist
Thou must lift on thy heels.

When I bend down my face, to hold
Thine up must be thy strife;
So, to each other we could throw
Sweet, eager, looks for life.

And so that thou have about love
A knowledge true and plain,
When I stoop to kiss thee, thou must
Kiss me too and again."

With much bewilderment her mind
The little boy's word fills,
And shyly and nicely now she
Wills not, and now she wills.

And slowly she tells him:- "Since thy
Childhood I've known thy wit,
And as thou art and glib and small
My temper thou wouldst fit.

But Evening-star sprung from the calm
Of the oblivion,
Though, gives horizon limitless
To the sea lone and dun.

And secretly, I close my eyes
For my eyelash tears dim
When the waves of the sea go on
Travelling toward him.

He shines with love unspeakable
So that my pains he'd leach,
But higher and higher soars, so
That his hand I'd ne'er reach.

Sadly thrusts from the worlds which from
My soul his cold ray bar...
I shall love him for ever and
For ever he'll rove far.

Like the unmeasured steppes my days
Are deaf and wild, therefore,
But my nights spread a holy charm
I understand no more!"

-"Thou art a child! Let's go! Through new
Lands our own fate let's frame!
Soon they shall have lost our trace and
Forgot even our name!

We shall be both wise, glad and whole
As my judgement infers
And thou wouldst not long for thy kin
Nor yearn for Evening-stars!"


Then Evening-star went out. His wings
Grow, into heavens dash,
And on his way millenniums
Flee in less than a flash.

Below, a depth of stars; above,
The heaven stars begem, -
He seems an endless lightning that
Is wandering through them.

And from the Chaos' vales he sees
How in an immense ring
Round him, as in the World's first day,
Lights from their sources spring;

How, springing, they hem him like an
Ocean that swimming nears...
He flees carried by his desire
Until he disappears.

For that region is boundless and
Searching regards avoids
And Time strive vainly there to come
To life from the dark voids.

'Tis nought. 'Tis, though, thirst that sips him
And which he cannot shun,
'Tis depth unknown, comparable
To blind oblivion.

-"From that dark, choking, endlessness
Into which I am furled,
Father, undo me, and for e'er
Be praised in the whole world!

Ask anything for this new fate
For with mine I am through:
O hear my prayer, O my Lord, for
Thou gives life and death too.

Take back my endlessness, the fires
That my being devour
And in return give me a chance
To love but for an hour!

I've come from Chaos; I'd return
To that my former nest...
And as I have been brought to life
From rest, I crave for rest!"

-"Hyperion, that comest from
The depths with the world's swarm,
Do not ask signs and miracles
That have no name nor form.

Thou wantest to count among men,
Take their resemblance vain;
But would now the whole mankind die
Men will be born again.

But they are building on the wind
Ideals void and blind;
When human waves run into graves
New waves spring from behind.

Fate's persecutions, lucky stars,
They only are to own;
Here we know neither time nor space,
Death we have never known.

From the eternal yesterday
Drinks what to-day will drain
And if a sun dies on the sky
A sun quickens again.

Risen as for ever, death though
Follows them like a thorn
For all are born only to die
And die to be reborn.

But thou remainest wheresoe'er
Thou wouldst set down or flee.
Thou art of the prime form and an
Eternal prodigy.

Thou wilt now hear the wondrous voice
At whose bewitched singing
Mounts woody get skipping to skies
Into sea Island sinking!

Perhaps thou wilt more: show in deeds
Thy sense of justice, might,
Out of the earth's lumps make an empire
And settle on its height!

I can give thee millions of vessels
And hosts; thou, bear thy breath
O'er all the lands, o'er all the oceans:
I cannot give thee death.

For whom thou wantest then to die?
Just go and see what's worth
All that is waiting there for thee
On that wandering earth!"


His first dominion on the sky
Hyperion restores
And like in his first day, his light
All o'er again he pours.

For it is evening and the night
Her duty never waives.
Now the moon rises quietly
And shaking from the waves,

And upon the paths of the groves
Her sparkles again drone...
Under the row of linden-trees
Two youths sit all alone.

-"O darling, let my blessed ear feel
How thy heart's pulses beat,
Under the ray of thy eyes clear
And unspeakably sweet.

With the charms of their cold light pierce
My thought's faery glades,
Pour an eternal quietness
On my passion's dark shades.

And there, above, remain to stop
Thy woe's violet stream,
For thou art my first source of love
And also my last dream!"

Hyperion beholds how love
Their eyes equally charms:
Scarcely his arm touches her neck,
She takes him in her arms.

The silvery blooms spread their smells
And their soft cascade strokes
The tops of the heads of both youths
With long and golden locks.

And all bewitched by love, she lifts
Her eyes toward the fires
Of the witnessing Evening-star
And trusts him her desires:

-"Descend to me, mild Evening-star
Thou canst glide on a beam,
Enter my forest and my mind
And o'er my good luck gleam!"

As he did it once, into woods,
On hills, his rays he urges,
Guiding throughout so many wilds
The gleaming, moving, surges.

But he falls not as he did once
From his height into swells:
-"What matters thee, clod of dust, if
'Tis me or some one else?

You live in your sphere's narrowness
And luck rules over you -
But in my steady world I feel
Eternal, cold and true!"

The Longest Love Poem Ever Written
Sometimes I wish
I could see you in my dreams
All the time
(All the time)
I wish I could see you
Behind my eyelids
Every time I blink
There the Angel would be
Who talks and walks
Like The Devil Himself
You, who are so angelic and pure
While shooting up
With thorny needles
And gaining glowing
Foggy red eyes
With wings on your back
-Does no one else see them?-
They're not black or white
Not soft nor sharp
But they're alright
Let me describe you
My sweet slow addiction
Allow me to stay up
Night after night
Allow me to – with my unworthy pen
Write all the things you are
Until the ink runs out
(then I'll use my blood)
Until the paper is filled
(then I'll use my skin)
But I'll write it all
I'll write down exactly what you are
Until it is all recorded
That such a being did exist
And that must mean something
Let me record that
You are like Rain
You are like Sun
You are nourishment
Far superior to water and bread
No need to eat
No need to drink
No need to sleep
When you are alive in the world
You are the genius of a time
Of an age
Modern and ancient combined
Fused in a surreal embrace
Full of furry
And lack of Love
Flippant and aloof
You are the perfect
Distant observer
Oh to gain a glance!
Oh to gain a request!
Oh there can be nothing greater
How can this be?
How is this possible?
You try the patience
And wear the heart thin
As loving you
Is to love a machine or stone
Or blade of grass
Or prancing and fast-fleeing gazelle
So long it takes
To get a foot in
The tightly wedged door
Of your acknowledgment and care
All is slow-coming and even then
Trudging on and on
But all these things you don't even plan
Are pure genius
You are not ice cold white like winter
With extreme blue chill frost
Nor are you the steaming red hot fire
Of stifling sticky summer
You are instead
The cold breezes of Fall
The subtle comfort of Autumn
With its plodding pale
Oranges and yellows
And sweet whispers
Whistling through sparse trees
Falling asleep
Or just waking up
You could very well be
The wet, live of Spring
But no.
That would make you like a sunrise
When you arte so obviously
A gorgeous glowing Sunset
The world on fire dipped in ice
You are not airy
Or light or feathery
Without substance
Blue or clear or wispy
No, you are of the Earth.
Looking like a stumpy short
Little molehill yourself
As you stand so content
With eyes glowing
Eyes like a cat's – bright yellow
Like the sun through the leaves
And hair like the fresh, damp soil
And skin like every animal
Every cold-blooded creature
That slithers or crawls or jumps
And a clear voice
Like a brook as it runs over the stones
Wearing them all smooth
That voice.
That is like a thousand birds
All taking flight at once
That voice.
Oh tell me, please!
How on Earth
How in Heaven or in Hell
You could ever dream
Of condemning such a one
With such a voice as that!
How do you not tremble with Delight?
And sigh with infinite pleasure upon hearing it?
Soft and innocent
And ringing like bells!
How can you not
Instantly forgive
Any previous wrong
Committed against you
When you hear those words
Chirped so prettily
As if from a Devil-Angel-Bird
Created by an indecisive God
Who both wanted to make
A terrible mistake
And the greatest beauty
Ever to breathe human air
And live a much-too-short life
And while that same God
Flung parts together messily to make me
He held the clay so carefully
When it came to the mere Idea of You
He must have said,
'Here, this one will be envied!
Here, this one will be the most gorgeous,
Grandest, strongest, and dangerous being
I have ever and will ever create!'
And so here you are.
And here I am.
Your foolish following starving fool
Waiting anxiously for your gracious scraps to fall
Trying to seem like I don't need them
-Oh but you can clearly see I need them-
That I've completely given up all other
Sources of sustenance
Because after you – all is incompetent
And nothing is ever enough compared to you.
But you tell me to starve
And I'll starve!
You tell me to jump
And I will leap!
You tell me to burn
And I will roast to ashes!
You tell me to cry
And I will bawl gladly at your feet!
Tell me to fight
And I will be your army
And that is how awful your power is
And that I how weak my will around you is
But enough.
Allow me to further describe what you are
For that is what the world needs to hear.
That is the thing I need
To shout from rooftops until my voice is lost
You are the Moon.
But when it is a small sliver
-Covered almost all in black shroud-
You are Janis Joplin
Mixed with John Lennon
And Jimi Hendrix mixed with Tegan.
You are Green and Yellow
And brown and deep Red.
You are the wild rabid animal
So difficult to snag
Or even glimpse right away
The creature so very elusive
You have to wait months.
Months and months and months!
Crouching down among wet
Dirty scattered forest leaves
Gaining its trust so slowly
Proving your consistency
And loyalty and true desire
And after so many months
You still only barely manage
To brush the thing's fur
Slightly grazing the soft perfect thing
with your fingertips
but you'll continue to wait.
No doubt about that.
You'll stay in that forest
Until the months turn
To sorry years
And you die among the decay of Earth
Because you think
That might be a very fine way to die
Waiting for the one you love
You are like a drumbeat
Loud – and so violently strong
That you can feel the thumps
Beating against your chest
Beating against your heart.
To be continued…

Seems lak to me de stars don’t shine so bright,
Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,
Seems lak to me der’s nothin’ goin’ right,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me de sky ain’t half so blue,
Seems lak to me dat ev’ything wants you,
Seems lak to me I don’t know what to do,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me dat ev’ything is wrong,
Seems lak to me de day’s jes twice es long,
Seems lak to me de bird’s forgot his song,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me I jes can’t he’p but sigh,
Seems lak to me ma th’oat keeps gittin’ dry,
Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,
Sence you went away.

I.
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
II.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Love is that fragile flower of most uncommon beauty. One which can never be found by purpose alone while wandering through life\'s gardens. But one whose color and fragrance is most pure and meaningful when discovered by accident while tending to the more mundane duties of the common man. A diamond found lying quietly amongst the broken glass of childhood\'s shattered windows.<br />
<br />
To love another is the supreme sacrifice of self. For we must give freely and completely of ourselves to another, without reservation or condition. To give less serves only to hinder the growth of our evolution from self sustaining isolation to a greater joining of universal awareness. As children we love by instinct but it is a selfish love. One which results out of necessity, born of helpless reliance on others for survival. It is an innocent love, free of complicated psychosocial encumbrances or expectations. But it is a hungry love which takes much more than it gives in the beginning.<br />
<br />
Initially a baby will smile out of some inner pleasure that is imperceptible to others. But very soon, it learns from our reactions to that smile that it possesses a power to influence its surroundings. By repetition and association the child discovers he can gain pleasurable sensations from external sources by the simple act of a smile. The first seed of love is planted when we acknowledge the child\'s smile with our own outward expression of pleasure.<br />
<br />
\"Even a minor event in the life of a child is an event of that child\'s world and thus a world event.\"<br />
<br />
Gaston Bachelard (1884-1962), French philosopher<br />
<br />
From that first moment of conscious realization the child understands that to be a recipient of these enticing pleasures he must give of himself. However, growing in close proximity to this freshly planted seed lies another, less tender sprout. A subtle, yet powerful comprehension of the inherent capacity for manipulation. Without being fully aware of it, the child can sense that his own selfish needs can be fulfilled wholly with only a tiny investment on his part. It is almost too easy. And the easiest lessons of life, though not without merit, demand so little of us that we are sometimes blind to the simple fact that we remain responsible for our actions towards other human beings.<br />
<br />
\"Deity would not tolerate the presumption that all can be manipulated; an object lesson of the limits of human presumption is necessary.\"<br />
So the child grows. As his needs and desires gain in both intensity and sophistication, he is dependent on his sparse inventory of experience to propel him safely through the deep and hazardous waters of interpersonal relationships. The lessons get harder and the price gets much higher to pay. A smile is no longer enough. A cute gesture is only that and nothing more. Love and acceptance by others is no less a necessity now than ever, but it is not so easily obtained. The obligatory and anticipated rewards for adorable behavior given us by our parents are not so readily found in those who have no genetic predisposition to love us. Familial love is but a pale precursor of the romantic love we seek in later years. But still we hunger for that warm contentment of shared compassion and longing for physical contact which can only be encountered when we are held tightly in the heart and soul of an object of our desires.<br />
<br />
We set forth on our journey to love\'s gratification with only those sadly ineffectual tools we developed as children. Their purpose, long served, has outlived its usefulness. We search for nirvana unclothed and without protection from the harshness of the world in which it may or may not exist at all. By trial and many errors, we ruefully discern that the truest and most satisfying of emotional forces, that which we call love, often appears to be no more than a taunting mirage. An apparition of beauty which lies just beyond our seemingly limited reach. We strive and toil endlessly, enchanted by love\'s simple promise of a more complete and meaningful existence. A communal reality of two souls enjoined by identical and mutually fulfilling sentiment. Ahhh, such is the essence of wakeful dreams and conscious imaginings.<br />
<br />
\"But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.\"<br />
W. B. Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet<br />
<br />
\"And love, in silent splendor, holds forth no clues. It is not bound by mortal conscience, therefore it does not offer apologies for its failures.\"<br />
<br />
Love defies generalizations. Poets, philosophers, theologians, and countless others have ascribed their own theories and interpretations but often they still fall short of the goal of capturing the true nature of this unfathomable entity. The strength of love lies in its diversity. It possesses the unique ability to evolve, change, and permutate over the course of our lives. Just as we grow outwardly we must also grow inwardly. Our thoughts, realizations, and perceptions are given credence by our individual experiences on the separate paths we follow in our quest for love. And as love is an integral part of our inner selves, so it must grow and mature as well. It possesses the ability to adapt to its internal as well as its external environment. It not only changes as we change but it also ebbs and flows outwardly dependent on the receptivity of those to whom it is directed.<br />
<br />
During certain periods of our lives love may seem to fade or even disappear entirely from our emotional palette. But once conceived it never truly ceases to exist. Love is the ultimate survivor. It has a will to live as strong as the will of its human container. If necessary, it may hibernate, withdraw like a turtle into its shell. When it is rebuffed or rejected by the harshness and cold complacency which can be so common in others, it folds in on itself until which time it again feels safe to venture out into a more nurturing environment. But it does not die.<br />
<br />
We say we fall in love but it is a misnomer. We do not fall anywhere. We simply open our hearts and allow the love inside to project its energy towards the heart of another. If it is well received and properly tended, it creates a spiritual bond between the two hearts. However, love is an individualized emotion. It is a part of who we are and just as no two people share the exact same emotional make-up, neither can they share totally identical expressions of their love for one another. The beauty of a strong and viable relationship is seen when two souls meet and the colors of their love complement each other.<br />
<br />
We are in love when we can find that fragile state of being where our individual love demands no more than the other person can give and when we can provide the necessary energies to allow them to be fulfilled as well. Love cares nothing for equality but it insists on balance. That balance is possible only when both people are satisfied that their own expectations and needs in a relationship are being adequately provided for.<br />
<br />
\"Love is often nothing but a favorable exchange between two people who get the most of what they can expect.\"<br />
<br />
The first step towards a failed love affair is taken when we begin to feel we are giving more of ourselves than is being rejuvenated by the influx of love from our partner. That however, is not the fault of love but a sign that, in our own perception, we are not being compensated for our efforts. The next, and often fatal, step is when we decide to fall back on that old learned behavior of using the expression of our love as a manipulative tool to gain that which we most strongly desire. Love seeks only love, but egotistical aspects of our self image may interfere with our ability to recognize the quality and quantity of love being given to us.<br />
<br />
It is our duty to our mate and our responsibility to ourselves to make clear the window to our souls. Love thrives on communication and tolerance. That which we desire and that which we can accept as a reasonable equivalent must be verbalized or otherwise made unmistakably apparent to our lover. Understanding and compromise are the banquets on which love feasts. And conversely, assumption and an unyielding insistence on prerequisites for our love are the sabers which will inevitably sever the emotional bond that love provides.<br />
<br />
We are merely passengers on our ship of destiny and love is the compass that guides our journey through life. Whether it is love for another human being, a cherished goal, or a desire to find completeness and meaning to our lives bears little consequence on the necessity for following the course that love charts. Love cannot live comfortably in a vacuum. It must be allowed free reign and be given the opportunity to explore beyond the confining walls of self-protection which we construct as barriers to the ravages of life. It is the flagship of our soul and the purveyor of our most cherished dreams of a purposeful existence. Love we hide or hold back from others out of fear is love wasted. It is of no value to us when held inside but can increase in value a hundredfold when shared with another like minded individual or when directed towards a greater aspiration beyond our own selfish needs.<br />
<br />
\"Love, the strongest and deepest element in all life, the harbinger of hope, of joy, of ecstasy; love, the defier of all laws, of all conventions; love, the freest, the most powerful molder of human destiny...\"<br />
Emma Goldman (1869-1940), U.S. anarchist<br />
<br />
It has been often said, when attempting to offer explanation towards an otherwise unlikely pairing, that love is blind. In this context it is insinuated that love is lacking in one of the physical senses and is unable to discern the otherwise obvious imperfections which may be evident to those who proclaim to have a clearer view of reality. While this may bear some truth as to the tendency for love to ignore certain unseemly attributes which may be present in another, it does little to give credit to the truer vision of love itself. Love possesses no physical senses whatsoever. More so, it is an extension of the physical senses we are burdened with as human beings. Our distinct but individual views of reality are based on the input we receive from those physical senses. And those senses are often influenced by factors which lie beyond the reach of the senses themselves. A motion picture fools us into believing that we are seeing a seamless replay of events when in actuality we are seeing nothing more than a rapid series of frozen moments in time captured by the eye of the camera.<br />
<br />
When we gaze at a beautiful red rose we see only the narrow spectrum of color which is reflected back at us but the entire spectrum of all the other colors are absorbed by and contained within that same rose. Invisible but still present. Ask a man, blind from birth, to describe a rainbow or a deaf person to sing along to a song on the radio. It is of course impossible for them to do so. However, ask those same people to speak to you of their perceptions of love and you may be amazed at how closely they coincide with your own. We, as human beings, can never fully comprehend the reality perceived by another individual. Therefore we must be careful in our judgments and in the conclusions we draw based on our own perceptions of reality.<br />
<br />
Love\'s reality, like beauty, is held solely in the eyes of the beholder. And love\'s vision, if we must transpose a physical sense upon a non-physical entity, is crystal clear. It seeks that which coincides appropriately with its own desires. It is not foolproof, nor is it always accurate in striking close to the heart of its target. Nevertheless, it is an essential component of our soul\'s repertoire and must be given the autonomy it requires to seek out that which holds promise to provide the needed sustenance for its own growth.<br />
<br />
\"What is the most rigorous law of our being? Growth. No smallest atom of our moral, mental, or physical structure can stand still a year. It grows-it must grow; nothing can prevent it.\"<br />
Mark Twain (1835-1910), U.S. author<br />
<br />
\"The self ... might be regarded as a sort of citadel of the mind, fortified without and containing selected treasures within, while love is an undivided share in the rest of the universe. In a healthy mind each contributes to the growth of the other: what we love intensely or for a long time we are likely to bring within the citadel, and to assert as part of ourself. On the other hand, it is only on the basis of a substantial self that a person is capable of progressive sympathy or love.\"<br />
Love never grows up, it only grows outward. It is the Peter Pan of emotional energies. While this may sound contradictory to the earlier statements, it is in fact, completely harmonious. Our own emotional needs and requirements may change and grow but love simply adapts to the new environment. Love learns from our experiences but its essential characteristics remain unchanged. Love retains its childlike innocence and hopeful faith throughout our lives. It is the driving force of our dreams and our soul\'s unending search for contentment and serenity within the framework of our singular reality.<br />
<br />
There is no force or presence on earth so sublime as that which is derived from the uninhibited expression of love for another human being. When that love is returned in kind, when two souls join hands in the complete and undeniable bond of mutual compassion and reverence, then and only then can we humans ever expect to sample the fruits of nirvana. No truer ideals can exist for mankind beyond this seemingly unattainable connection of love unbound. But it is within our nature to achieve the impossible and it is not beyond the limits of love\'s desire to seek the solace of total immersion within the heart of those we believe to be capable of such ecstatic heights of emotion.<br />
<br />
We are more often left wanting, unfulfilled and incomplete, in our usual interactions with the vast majority of those we meet in our lives. But that takes nothing away from love\'s dream of compassionate surrender to the possibilities for the future. And therein lies the instinct for love\'s survival, and perhaps our own. It presents itself as a determination to force us through the frailties and foibles of mortal existence. Obligating us to maintain an uncompromising optimism towards the realization of spiritual completeness that may lie dormant but aware in the souls of others we encounter along the way.<br />
<br />
And if perchance, like emotional radar, our love detects that long sought coherence in the countenance of another heart\'s desire, our will becomes nothing more than a candle in the wind of destiny\'s storm. Love, enraptured by the covenant of its own reality, bursts forth with renewed direction and purpose. Senses overwhelmed, our mortal lives become nothing more than a superficial shell of awareness as love has its way with our heart. To deny the event is folly. To question the source is pointless. To attempt to contain the emotion is senseless. It is we who are blind, love sees clearly and must follow its course to the end. For there can be no greater achievement in our lives than to allow the essence of our heart to find meaning and purpose in the heart of another.<br />
<br />
\"...And only in the end we\'ll see,<br />
just what our lives were meant to be,<br />
When all our childhood fantasies<br />
Are lost within the mysteries<br />
Of Time.\"<br />

Love

Love is the ultimate prize in life, the gift that I am most thankful for. The

description of love is found in every smile, every pounding heart, and the sweet taste

of every single kiss. Love is an emotional feeling deep inside the human soul. <br />

Love is the basis of every day life, and it gives us the power to feel so affectionately <br />

for one another. I would give up just about everything in my life for love, because <br />

I could never be more thankful for anything else.<br />

Love is found on the battle field of two passion driven hearts. I am thankful <br />

for every chill and every goose bump I get, simply from the thought of being in <br />

love. The power of love that flows from every tear drop rinses off the bad <br />

memories of yesterday, cleansing my body and my soul. I hear my racing heart, <br />

pounding in my chest, every beat pulling me closer to the reigns of love. The <br />

empowering smell of love in in the air drives me insane, and I feel the strength of the <br />

grasp of love upon my soul. The thanks I feel for beholding the gift of love is huge, <br />

bigger than I would have ever imagined.<br />

Love looks like the wind, because it is not literally visible. However, it can <br />

be felt, giving proof to the saying that sometimes you have to believe to see. The <br />

only way of seeing love is through the ways people show it. I am thankful for being <br />

capable of knowing something exists, simply by feeling it and the power it holds.My <br />

thanks for love is different than the thanks I feel for anything else. Most things I <br />

am thankful for have somehow managed to become uncaring or unthoughtful, like <br />

my mom. My mom has so carelessly caused our family to move from place to <br />

place, close to forty times. She is the reason as to why I have gone to twenty-three <br />

schools. At times this has caused me to feel a great amount of bitter regret and unthankfulness <br />

towards her. However throughout the harsh realities, I have kept the faith of her <br />

undying love for me. Love is different than anything else, because unlike the dead <br />

end paths of other emotions, love is forever. I will never stop being thankful for <br />

love, because I know that true love will withhold anything and it will never <br />

disappear.

Every day that passes brings me to a closer understanding of love. Love <br />

provides two hearts with the ability to grow together as one. With love, I am <br />

capable of awaking each morning. Drama filled lives and sadistic crimes put me in <br />

fear of the unlived life. The love I have to look forward to wipes away those fears, <br />

making me feel so thankful. Love is an important aspect of life and it gives <br />

meaning to all that we feel inside. Life would not be possible without the gift of <br />

love, because like blood, love runs through our veins and keeps our hearts beating, <br />

with eagerness of what tomorrow will hold.<br />

There is nothing better than love and being loved, and there is nothing more <br />

deserving to be thankful for. Love is found amongst two hearts traveling <br />

thankfully down the path of fate. To see love is to believe in love, and with this

belief, I can feel the on-going power of the love within. As the minutes turn into <

hours and the hours into days, love keeps me alive, contradicting my pain with

undoubtfulness of all the good yet to come. My heart has grown a passion for

having the gift of love, and nothing could ever replace this passion. Nothing could

ever make me more thankful than the amazingly sensational gift of love.