thoughts...

A truism in life my friend:

You may kiss a woman, and with each kiss comes the desire to justify your wanting her, but the woman you feel you need, remains elusive. Ultimately, you may conclude these kisses have been in vain, no matter the various angles in which you view it.

Perhaps love as an entity, is as fictitious as the cold to heat, or as the wind that blows; perhaps it is nothing more than a contrived reference point, a definition to an unknown force, similar to how we struggle to define a god. We are told that we are the children of "God," created in "Her" (:-) own image, yet--we have no comprehension, nor the capacity within our own thought matrix to conceive such a being, thus, how can we truly know what or whom "God" is? Our definitions can do no more than offer to us--a fragile foundation of comfort...

So, can the same be said of love? Is love some neutral being, nihilistic in nature, caring not who partakes of its proverbial liquor, or what the consequences of the drinking shall render? Is it a force? How can any force within the cosmic expanse exist without an opposite? What is love relative to? What, or who hath the power to act upon it (love), yielding the equal opposite reaction? If love is no force--relative to nothing, how can it affect us?

Perhaps we are fools to believe that we are significant to "love." I doubt I am the first fool to confess such folly, nonetheless--it shall be told...

When relationships wither as the flower in autumn, we are expected to let go, to move on--and write the withering off as merely the result of the changing of seasons. Yet, the mind, in its quest for "knowing," does not rest. Such an inquisitive nature ironically condemns the host (person/human) to relive moments; memories both pleasant, and painful. At the moment one concedes to the awful realization of the separation, a void encompasses the forlorn. That emptiness is all that remains; a dismal realm, an emotional purgatory, which becomes their property, though it is bought with a great pain.

You relive those moments, which led to the withering of the flower, and as winter approaches, you seek to obtain the keys to the mystery of the "how," and the "why," only to discern the sum of those outcomes are infinite. In the end, you find yourself waltzing a breath away from the embrace of madness...