life has its loves and its sadnesses. What is known to others, other than what is shared is up to us.
Love has its hopes so that we may dream and leave this moment unto one where we aspire to new happiness.
Life has its laments, then they remember the found of such a deep love in a soul is a point of progression,
to deny such an honour is a madness. I am not cold nor emotionless, nor am I seperate. I merely have a great sadness,
that comes with a great love, its all micro and macrocosm. Like that ectasy pill of youth the moments of liberating
freedom and flashing lights, the weightlessness the chains of opression leave as the kiss to their burn comsumes you for that
time and makes you a new whole.
So much greater is a large time in our lives, It grabs us, with the story of the past, the building of a character worthy
of play wright, a love worthy of enternite life and a soul worthy of the purification of the realm from the desire of such
a thing. All of a sudden desire is lost, the transient 'I' misplaced and a new place in which we are not just residing, but
being awakens. We are in the whirlpool of all that this is and although may catch upon the rocks of fear, there is a
knowing of the sacredness of this time. Yet just like that comedown, the depression and need to be help that accompany the
sunday morning on that cold sofa of a warm stranger, the buzz ends, its part of the game, it will resurface in greater form
with a greater name as all things do, but that moment for what it was taught us the golden rule. Nothing we could gain from
it surpassed the moment its self. That all gifts are immediate and have to be seized with the immediacy of the instincual
reaction that saves a man from falling. The moment that is and always was is our one true love, she wears decieving clothes
so that we may to recognise her in a new way, but it is always her.
Life has all of these things and none of them, the answer of this is dependant on what you choose to see as now and not later.