Through the Window Pane

 There's a thin layer of frost between me and the outside world.  And the butterflies in my gut tell me I'm lost.  That the lurching feeling is the only thing that's real.  That when the train stops, I probably won't get off.  Because I'm afraid.  Afraid to take those few steps that truly mean anything.  Afraid of success.  Afraid of failure.  Because where I am right now, it's warm.  So really, I'm afraid of the cold.  Or maybe I'm just afraid of the Pain that holds it back.  Not because it makes my skin crack and bleed.  But because it forces my heart to skip a beat.  And I can't afford that.  Because if it happens too much, my brain won't get enough blood, then my lungs won't get enough oxygen, and I'll forget the important things.  Like how to breath, and how the ocean feels, all the little details about Her, and everything my parents told me was Real.  But, most of all.  I'm afraid that no one else has a heart as big as mine.  Afraid, that I'll never get that kind of love in return.

Coma

The fact is . . . I'm dead.  I don't feel like it, but everyone says I am.  I'm 17 years old, and they say I died in 2012.  It just doesn't add up.  Plus, today is June 6 2020, my birthday.  But the only flames I see are Hell, and I need bigger lungs to blow those out.  While I was distracted with the thought of unending suffering, I heard something rare, yet familiar.  A boy, . . . my brother!  I strain to hear what he's saying.  "Britain, I can see you, you're not dead so don't listen to what everyone else says, I just know it. . ."

1: Is the brother real, or a hallucination?
2: If Britain isn't dead, where is he?
3: How will he get out?

Ashes to Ashes

As I lose focus, I see a beautiful woman in the page.  Mixed, with the words and phrases of age.  Sitting there, Her black and white print staring back at me.  Hoping, she'll wrap me in gentle sorrow.  The closer she gets, the more the ink bleeds into the page, and the more I yearn for the brush of paper on skin.  But touching Hurts too much, and each line just becomes a part of me I wish to forget.  I can't.  These lyrics have already filled me from within.  Swimming through my veins and crawling through my heart.  There, she finds her rest.  Only waking at the moments when I feel at my best.  And causing me torment and anguish when I sleep.  My only comfort is that one day my heart will take it's final beat.  That's when I'll lose my focus again.  I'll no longer have to bear standing on sore feet, and I'll just fall into your rough embrace, a stone smile fixed upon my face.  That's all I ever wanted.  The knowledge of books.  The phrases of time.  The beauty of the Woman in the page.  A love that could've been mine. . .  So I burned the book, and I never looked back.

Joe & Matthias

Prodding, to reopen Time.

They were finding it difficult to crack. . .

Revenge

I grabbed something hot today.
It scalded, seared, . . . Burned.
I tried to let it drop,
but my hands were stuck firm.
That is, until it melted the flesh from my bones.
It struck at the ground with a clang,
like it was angry.
And with it, it took a piece of me
I will never get back.
Next time, I'll be sure to grab the Cold one. 

Purple Tint

I don't know you, but I feel like I do.  Do you mind if I ask you a question?  Could you ever love me?  I mean truly love me?  Because I've been Hurt before and I think it's because I forgot to ask this question.  When I'm sick, could you hold me tight?  When I'm in the dark, could you shed some light?  And when I'm mad at the World, and yelling in frustration, could you forgive me?  Because I'm not perfect, and you look like someone who could keep me sane.  I'm not saying you look like a band-aid or anything.  I'm saying you're beautiful.  Really, it's a compliment.  Which is why I don't know why I feel so confident.  Because right now, I should be stuttering meaningless words out of a mouth that no girl would Remember.  Anyway, enough about me.  Because you have the most beautiful earth-tone Eyes.  And the sexiest skin I've ever had the pleasure of seeing.  (They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, you know).  And don't get me started on that smile, because I could Linger for awhile.  I'm talking about that genuine smile that sends shivers down my spine, yet keeps me warm at the same time.  And your laugh, makes my skin tingle like my body's been asleep for ages.  You make me fly with your movement, your scent, your unearthly graces.  Which makes me wonder if your an angel.  Because I don't know where you came from if it wasn't Heaven.  I could get lost in those dark locks, and never seek a way out.  Because your hair is something I could not live with out.  Like I said, I know you, but I feel like I don't.  You are the kind of girl that would need a life time to figure out.  So lets delve into those veins.  So full of Life, and Passion.  And probably the only blood that could make me love life one second, and hate breathing the next.  And of course the only blood that can make my throat swell shut.  Because when you cut me, I don't just feel it in my heart.  I Feel it in my Bones, and that's hard to Stand.  Watching you give that heart away to some other fool.  You're also the only one who can stitch that cut, and stop the flood.  Because I feel like I know you, but in Reality, I don't.  So I'm asking you, if I could ever be that lucky fool.  If you ever gave me the chance, I wouldn't let you down.  I wouldn't drop your heart, and I'd always be around.  To catch every tear before it hit the ground, and hold every bad thought before it made a sound, just so you wouldn't have to.  Because You look like the kind of person I could do that for.  (Don't get me wrong, it's not because of the thighs, although those are nice).  I don't know . . . maybe it's the Eye's.

Eave's Dropping

I dropped you again Eave, and I'm sorry.  I honestly didn't mean it, please take me back.  I just want you to be happy, and I can't stop thinking about that.  Because ever since you left my grasp, my heart, has turned black.  And saying something won't work, because my mouth won't fit, and I can't even get the Right words out of it.  Since then, the right time has passed and I can't tie it off and reel it in.  No matter how hard I try, I can't get back on track.  So now I just divide my time.  Put it on the paper, and wait for my next line.  Hoping, but not quite praying. That with the right sentence, I might Catch you Eave.  And then we can have it all.  The time.  The world.  That Falling feeling I always seem to give you.  We can take the Lies we've been telling each other, and we can tell them again.  And we'll be, Happy.  That's what love is, Right?  And Eave, are you listening?  Because this is important, and I'm only going to say it once.  Eave, I promise . . . I will never drop you again.

Redemption: (Seven Pounds)

Today, I lost it all, and I can't get it back.  Now these meager Seven pounds are starting to break my back.  The weight is unbearable, and there's only one way out.  To give everything that's left.  Including my last breath.  Maybe once that's done, I will be able to stand again.  We all make mistakes, and I just want that second chance.  But I get this feeling that's not going to happen.  Because I lie to the one's I love to help those in need.  Don't get me wrong though, I'm not doing this out of greed.  This weight is crushing, constantly doubling, and I can't Breath.  Brother, you were the first.  I couldn't bear to watch you drown and the water wasn't even past your ankles.  So I helped you breath.  Holly, dear, your body was taken by blight.  So I gave you Hope, I made you light.  George, you're a good person, even when no one is watching.  Yet, for some reason you were off balance and under pressure.  So I shifted the weight, and helped you stand tall.  Nicholas, I don't know you, but I feel like I do.  Would you mind if I called you Nick?  You're young, just a boy, but you're filled will old blood and prone to disease.  I gave you the cure, so you could forget the past and be a kid again.  Connie, your covered in bruises, and you have two beautiful angels at your side.  They deserve better, You deserve better.  So I gave you my house, no strings attached.  Now you can do what I never could.  Go live your life, make that house a Home.  Ezra, you're blind, sell meat for employment, and play the piano beautifully.  You're also the kindest man I have ever had the privilege to know.  I gave you my eyes, so you could finally See the wonder that is the world, and those beautiful keys you know so well.  I gave, and I gave.  Then I met you.  A girl with big dreams, but tight Seams.  I met you and I fell in Love.  I gave to you, what I could give to no one else.  My Heart . . . literally.

Music and Bones

I looked at myself in the mirror today.  But I couldn't look myself in the eye.  I ran my hands through my hair, and I asked myself.  Who am I?  What have I become?  I began Questioning, Interrogating my heart.  I touched each string, played each fret.  Just to see if my heart could still Thrum.  But the Music sounded Wrong.  It sounded out of tune.  Broken, as if I had Lost something.  As if I had lost Something, and now it's Gone.  My head began to ring, as the whisper of my bones finally echoed through me.  They said: (He's hidden deep, bound tight, under Lock, Key, and watchful Eye).  Well, how deep?  How tight?  Because He's beginning to be one of those things I can no longer Feel.  (About six feet, encased in a prison of steel).  Why so deep?  Who put him there and how do I get him out?  (She put him there.  But fear not, for your heart is stout.  We know you will succeed).  So I grab a shovel, and begin to Dig.  I dig, and dig until body and spirit are sore, and my soul begin to Bleed.  There's two shovels here!  Why won't you help me?!  (We're sorry.  We can't help you with This.  Oh . . . I failed to Notice, until now . . . of course you can't.  Your wrist's are damaged, your knee's broken, and your Marrow black.  I can no longer trust You.  Blinded, I was tricked into taking a Twisted path.  So it's up to me, I guess.  I'll have to find my own way back. . .

The Monsters In My Closet

I fear death.  I fear the day I'm lying on the ground, saying my last words, taking my last breath.  Or is that just in the movies?  I fear my life will turn out like the movies.  That my life is just a plot intended to be Someones brief Entertainment, only to have a "happy" end.  I'm afraid that all my hard work will amount to nothing.  That after all I've done for You, I'll only be called a friend.  I'm afraid that there Is an end.  That one day I will lose all I have.  I'm afraid of falling backwards, hands groping, but nothing to grab.  I'm afraid that if I give my heart away, I'll get stabbed. . . again.  I fear knowledge.  I fear knowing I wasn't good enough to get it right.  I fear my writing will be light.  I want my writing to be heavy.  I want my writing to leave an impression on another life.  I'm afraid of getting what I want.  Afraid that if I get everything I want, I will forget how to dream.  And I don't want to forget.  Not about You.

S.C.A.V.A.

Is this what's to come?  Is this all human evolution has left us?  Lost hope, crushed dreams, and a world filled with dust.  After all these hard working years.  After getting so far.  After all the blood, sweat, and tears.  We ruined it.  Everything we've been given.  Have we forgotten everything we are?  We've left this world to burn and Scar.  With our actions driven by greed.  With our polluting and corrupting need.  On Mother earth we feed.  But we can no longer be fed.  There's just nothing left.  This vein has been bled.  And now we are left gnawing on the hand.  There's no place left for our children to play.  They're burdened with empty hands, and barren land.  And God will no longer listen, for we have committed the ultimate Sin.  Yet we still have the nerve to pray.  We drew the last straw, struck the last match, and burned this earth to ash.  We left nothing for our kin.  We drank the rivers dry, polluted the earth, and burned the sky.  Now our throats are choking, our hands are groping, and our eyes are longing for the stare.  But we no longer have tears to cry, and there's just too much to bear.  We seek a way out, we seek forgiveness.  But no God will listen, no God will answer.  Why should they?  We got ourselves into this mess.  And now our time is pressed.  Yet they say there's nothing to fear but fear itself.  So there's still hope right?. . .  But what is fear?  I'll tell you.  WE are fear.  We create it.  In our Mind, in our Soul.  We harbor it and nurture it to Life.  Then . . . we act upon it.  And what we fear, we inevitably destroy.  So this is our grande accomplishment.  A lost generation.  Left in a hopeless, unkempt yard of rusted cars and broken glass.  You were too greedy to care, and now our lungs are burdened with Heavy air.  Regret.  We can no longer bask in sweet sunshine.  The sun would burn our eyes.  Our children will never know the feeling of a cool breeze sneaking through their hair.  They'll never get to say Their goodbye's.  And we'll never again dance in the starlight.  We're condemned to this self made prison.  It's the price of lost Reason.  It's the only thing we had in the first place.  And what we have first, we always lose Last.  This flame will burn until there's only empty Space.  Yet you still cry out for something familiar, you cry for a taste.  Of Life, of breath.  A cry for touch, for happiness.  A Cry!  Signifying: I AM HUMAN!. . . And no one can take That from me.

Prayers For Rain

I'm young.  But the soles of these shoes are worn deep.  Holes that cradle memories and experiences that were good enough to keep.  I'm tired from all this walking, just dragging my feet, hoping I might someday get There.  I'm just going to rest my eyes, then I'll keep going.  And while I sleep, I dream. . .  It's almost time to stop walking, Forever.  Such a word can describe many things.  Like the birds in the sky, and the sunshine of warm summer days.  And You.  Your beautiful smile, your mesmerizing ways.  No matter the time, no matter the place, or even the day.  You toss me about in a wonderful haze.  An unseen breeze.  Just enough to ruffle the leaves.  A drizzle of Rain.  Seeks to cleanse dirt out of old wounds and wash away the pain.  The storm clears and we have learned to dance.  Now we must wait, and leave things to chance.  The smell of crisp, cool earth clears my thoughts.  Life is vibrant, and I can finally see again.  You smell like the rain, sweet as lemon drops.  I look your way, you smile, and I can feel Time as it stops.  I know you have to go but I want you to stay.  The door Closes, and my heart begins to gray.  You leave the scent of a dozen Roses.  Reminding me of a better time, a better place.  Far away, and as abstract as space.  Empty and vast.  That's the Hole you left me.  No good thing can last.  I'm bound in chains and can't break free.  So I fall to my knees.  And issue to God my silent plea's.  All I ask, is to be in a different time, a different place.  A better place to ease the pain.  Please God.  All I'm asking for is Rain.

Comatose

We're in this together now, you and I.  So take my hand, and away we'll fly.  We'll get away from these crowded streets, the sounds, the lights.  We'll get away from the shuffling feet, lost and directionless.  And we'll go to a place where our toes can feel the cool earth of a New path.  We'll go to a peaceful place, a happy place.  I'll take you there.  Trust me, I will.  We'll fly above pristine mountain tops, where the ground is pure and streams flow, sweet as lemon drops.  We'll float together on the cool breeze, and bask in the sunlight of clear blue skies.  Believe me, please.  I'm not leading you on or telling you lies.  We'll get above it all and finally See, without shading our eyes.  We'll discover together.  We'll find all the good this world has to offer.  All you have to do is take my hand.  And we'll be inseparable, like two birds of a feather.  I'll take you to all the places you've never been.  I'll grasp your hand and never let you go.  We'll see all there is to be seen, and more.  And when you wake, and wipe the sleep from your eyes.  You'll snuggle deep into your covers.  And you'll Remember, a better place of pristine mountain tops and clear blue skies.

Thoughts of an Unsound Mind

I often wonder why I even think about you.  Because every time I do, I know your not thinking about me, and it's driving me crazy.  I often wonder if you truly see me, not look at, but See me.  It's a viscous cycle.  Yet I keep it going because you're All I think about . . . that is when I'm not stuck thinking about some other less important thing, and it's truly making me crazy.  Never, have I felt like this.  Lost in a world of hurt and utter bliss.  I really need to find solid ground.  I really need to get to a place where my feet aren't bound.  I really need to forget . . . You.  But, for now.  I'm thinking about you, like crazy.  I'm thinking about you like a starry night thinks about the moon.  Like the moon thinks about the howling wolf.  And baby how I'm howling for you!  I'm thinking about you like a calculator thinks about solving problems.  And problems think about being calculated.  And calculations think about being written down to create problems for another generation to solve!  And how I've spilled my problems, my Heart, onto this page to be . . . Solved.  But, forget that because, Right now I'm thinking about You, and going crazy!  But who am I kidding, I like crazy.  Because, right now I'm thinking about you like those stars think about bursting, and throats think about thirsting, and hearts think about yearning . . . to be Loved.  Right now I'm thinking about you like a tired man who's walked his whole life thinks about just lying down, and going to Sleep . . . Forever.  I'm thinking about you like a lie thinks about being clever.  I'm thinking about you like Holes think about . . . THIS IS SPARTA!  Like Holes think about emptiness, and emptiness thinks about that Something . . . that Something, to Fill it.  Crazy!  I'm going crazy, but that's okay, because the crazier I get, the closer you are to me.  So for now, I'm thinking about you like crazy.  Right now.  I'm thinking about you like the Roses think about the rain, and the pricked finger thinks about the pain.  Right now I'm thinking about you like a camera thinks about pictures, and pictures think about taking, and smiles think about faking.  I'm thinking about you like creativity thinks about . . . acid?  Like gangsters think about being flaccid.  I'm just Thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you and wondering Why I failed.  And I'm crazy, because I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like a taxi thinks about being hailed.  Like I think about getting in that taxi, and leaving this place, just to get out of the storm raging around me.  When I really should just take a Walk, and learn to dance in the rain.  So I'm walking, or maybe I'm crawling, or maybe just running into certain Oblivion.  All I really know is I'm still thinking.  Still thinking about you, like a heart thinks about pain.  And clouds think about rain.  And rain thinks about roses.  And the pain in that pricked finger spreads to the heart.  Only to bleed itself dry onto this paper.  I can no longer tell if I'm thinking or dreaming.  Does either one ever really come true?  Probably not.  But, for some reason I continue to dream I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like spring thinks about Life, and life thinks about summer.  And summer thinks about bees, and bees are always thinking about honey.  And Honey I'm always thinking about You!  I'm thinking about you like Crazy thinks about churning my mind until my favorite color is White.  And white always thinks about straight jackets, and straight jackets think about square padded rooms.  And squares think about circles.  And I'm thinking full circles about you!  I'm thinking about you like flaws think about cracks.  And cracks think about freezing, thawing, freezing, thawing, freezing, SNAP!  Thinks about OH!  And oh I'm thinking about you!  I'm thinking about you like my hand is thinking about arthritis right now because holy fuck crazy people can write a-lot!  So I'll take a pill, hell maybe I'll take 20.  As long as I can forget, because being crazy is not what I have in Mind.  Unless I get my own Straight Jacket to keep my thoughts in line.  Understand it, feel it, know it. . .  Well, it's going to be awhile for this pill to take effect.  So until then, your presence Haunts my thoughts.  And my thoughts eventually Lead to thinking, and thinking inevitably leads to You.  I'm thinking about you like a faded path thinks about winding.  Like enraged teeth think about grinding.  Like lost thinks about finding.  And locks think about Binding.  I'm thinking about you like a haunted poet thinks about never ending stares.  Like tired, desperate feet think about never ending stairs.  And stairs think about destinations.  I'm thinking about you like questions think about explanations.  But I'm happy.  Maybe it's this pill.  Maybe it's the fact I got all of this off my chest.  Maybe it's me realizing that I may have tried, but haven't done my best.  Either way, I'm still thinking about you.  Do crazy people realize they are crazy. This is a question I often ponder.  I'm Happy.  And I'm thinking, You.  I'm thinking about you like Christ thinks about Bread.  And the starving child thinks about being happy, and fed.  I'm thinking about you like Napoleon thinks about dynamite, and love thinks about Friday night.  Like wrong wonders why it wasn't Right.  And Right now I'm thinking about you!  I'm thinking about you like ice cream thinks about the cone.  I'm thinking about you like silent Tears think about a quiet phone.  Like an Empty house sits and wonders why it's not a home.  Because it's the people who fill it that provide hopes and dreams.  That make the Dark lighter than it seems.  So I'm thinking about you like a T-shirt thinks about a worn pair of jeans.  Like when those jeans Rip, they think about a needle and thread to fix their seams.  I'm thinking about you like a sleeping child thinks about dreams.  I'm thinking about you!  Like a kid thinks about the candy he can't have.  I'm thinking about you like a desperate man turned criminal, thinks about a purse he can grab.  And really, It's not too hard to understand, but It's still something not even Einstein could grasp.  I guess you could say. . .  It's as simple as socks thinking about shoes, and drunks thinking about boos.  I'm thinking about you like tootsies think about rolls, and pimps thinks about ho's, and ho's think about . . . getting rich!  I'm thinking about you like eyes think about blinking, and Blink-ing thinks about 182, and 182 thinks about Wishing, and wishing thinks about wells.  And well, I'm wishing I could just get you out of my head, but in this twisted reality, I'm not.  Because when I'm lost in this thought, you're really all that I have.  So I'm holding on to you.  And I'm still thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like Mexi's think about . . . mowing?  Like Cold hands think about holding.  And burns think about scolding.  Like the Heat thinks about the flame, and the Liar thinks about who to blame.  Like Me, Thinking, about that Someone with a name.  So despite it All, I'm still thinking about you, and still wishing I wasn't.  Because this thorn in my heart is threatening overdose.  So to keep it from ceasing the beat, and bringing the Curtain to a permanent close . . . I'm thinking about, You.  I'm thinking about you like butchers think about beating . . . Suflaki, or is it meat?  I'm thinking about you like Sarah Palin thinks about killing moosin.  Like stoned loners think about using, and Judges think about choosing.  I'm thinking about you like the corner on 23rd thinks about Coke.  Like a redneck thinks about being the center of a funny joke.  I'm thinking about you like a Blind man thinks about Hope.  Right now, I'm thinking about you like a man with empty pockets thinks about being broke.  I'm thinking about you like hair thinks about expression, and expression thinks about creativity, which thinks about no longer being . . . Creative.  I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like Love thinks about . . . Giving up.  I'm trying.  I'm thinking about you like What's thinks about Up, and Up thinks about houses.  And houses think about that Something, to fill it.  Something thinks about love, and Love thinks about cheering up an old man who's lost it All.  But all the old man can think about is . . . Helium.  And helium of course thinks about balloons.  Helium should make me happy, yet I'm sad?  And while I wait for the answer, I'm thinking about you, like a Balloon thinks about why he was let go.

Exhale

What if the end was upon you?  What would you do in what could possibly be the last hour of your Life?  Would you do all you could to save yourself, and maybe elude death for another day?  Or would you lay down your life to ensure others don't suffer the same fate?  Would you want to be remembered in your ageless slumber  as a savior, to be forever loved for paying the ultimate price?  Or would you rather live in Oblivion knowing that you could have done something to save those you care most about.  YOU have a choice: Die whole, die knowing that the ones you love can close their eyes, and Sleep, knowing harm will not reach them because of your sacrifice.  :Die empty and broken, knowing that you sacrificed it All to see days without meaning nor end.  To die knowing a piece of you is in eternal repose.  This is certain Oblivion.  I often ponder this question.  In fact, the reason I am writing this post is because, after an uncertain number of years, I have finally found my answer.  If I had to end myself to ensure My loved ones could see even just one more sunrise, I would.  The harder question to answer is, would you give yourself up for a complete stranger.   Honestly that's one I can not yet answer.  So I’ll leave the answer for when the Question is asked.  Knowledge Is life but brings you closer to death.  So for now, I think I can wait for the answer to this Question.  For now, I know this, Life is beautiful.  Preserve it, let it flourish, and you may find your key to happiness.

Life

Can a bullet really fix it all?

The Fracture

All my life I have been building myself up on a skyscraper.  I was up there!  UP.  With the birds around me, and the clouds surrounding.  The sun so blindingly close, yet too far to grasp.  I was up.  Up so high, the pages in these Stories were taunting paper cuts.  I'm afraid of heights, so why am I up here?  A foolish question to ask myself.  But I guess only a Fool could have noticed something as unique as You.  It was like any other day occupying my high rise, observing Life as it usually comes to me, when you hit me like an earthquake.  You shook my lifelong refuge to its very foundation.  My once steady perch dissolved to dust in a matter of seconds, and I felt my heart heave as I plunged through Nothingness.  It was like chugging a six pack of Red Bull.  My feet lost ground and I flew for the first time of my life!  I felt the soft caress of Music in my soul, playing like the kings symphony. . .  As I sank into uncertain Oblivion I began to wonder, how long will I fall before you catch me?  Is this all just a dream, or has reality hit the wall?  I can't say.  All  I know is, I continue to Fall. . . that's it.  The rest is just a Fading stain on my memory. Life is like a mirage, so surreal, is it Fake or is it Real?  I'm a thirsty, weary man from building this now shattered reality.  Are You my water, my salvation?  Or my doomed, never ending destination?  This cloud cover leaves me, my last refuge.  The time for Question is over. . . I've fallen too far.  Now the ground is prominent, like a Scar.  WHY?  Why am I still falling?  The Birds whisper fleeting answers. 
Y  o  u   h  a  v  e   b  e  e  n   U  s  e  d. . . 

LOVE?

Love is something that happens in the blink of an eye.  It happens when you least expect it, and completely blows you away.  It has the has the power to tear you apart, or make you strive to be the best person you can be.  It empowers and destroys in seconds, yet can take a lifetime to find.  Love is completely unique to every individual, yet works in the same mysterious ways.  Everyone wonders what love is, philosophers have tried to define it and have ultimately failed, every time.  I think anyone can describe what it does and doesn't do.  But no individual knows what Love IS.  The only thing I can compare it to that fully describes it, is something that I can't fully describe.  Music.  Music is something that can evoke any emotion.  Music isn't bound by language, culture, race.  It's something truly divine that anyone and everyone can understand and enjoy.  It is one of those instinctual things that has been there ever since we can remember.  It's something we have all experienced and enjoy.  Love is what gives Life a purpose.  It gives Life a destination.  And although I'm not a very religious person, I can say these words in confidence.  Love is one of the few unshakable gifts given to mankind by God.