I am not a hopeless bubble head of romance. Not a frivolous lover of the physical and inconsequential. I am a true and deep lover of the soul. In truth that does not stumble, I love as completely as I ever know. With fierce loyalty, I erect protectorate forts around the defects of the object of my love. With worshipping love, I build outstanding monuments atop their shining elements. I give all that’s in my breast and when it is not sufficient I go fetch some more. I hold nothing back, leave no walls erect, lay myself bare.
I could control and reserve some of myself but I refuse to give without truly giving. I despise lovers whose offering is made in calibrated portions. What cowardly profanity! They don’t deserve to love or be loved in any measure.
Yet, when all is said and done, love profound or profane are twins just about identical. Be your love epic or fanciful, the day after its warm, in a clumsy stampede of emotions, you will find it mingled with the muck underfoot.