Imperfection of Love

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A Beautiful Paradox of Opposites

Love…
…makes no sense. It is illogical, uncertain, tentative, hard and often sorrowful. Love makes sense. It is logical, certain, sure, easy and happy. Love is a beautiful paradox of opposites.

“I Know Not” by James Browning
Is it her smile or the curl of her hair?
I really can’t tell yet, I’m still unaware.
Why like iron to magnet am I pulled her way?
I have no logic about that which I can display.
It is tenderness of her hand’s gentle touch?
That answer I wish I knew so very much.
Why like an angel does she appear to me?
I know sure its true, yet no proof do I see.
Is it her kiss or body next to mine in a hug?
That certain answer is only known high above.
Why is she near yet so distant and far away?
Only guesses I offer, No answer can I say.
Is she going to be with me never or soon?
At near Noon or at night under a bright moon?
Is she running away from me, never to return?
I know not except for her I yearn and yearn.

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Majesty of the Day

Love is…
…more varied than the weather; often sunny, but sometimes stormy; frequently warm but sometimes cold; regularly pleasant but sometimes uncomfortable; repeatedly inviting but sometimes repelling. Never are two days of love ever exactly the same.

Irish novelist and short story writer Elizabeth Bowen
When you
love
someone,
all your
saved-up
wishes
start
coming
out.

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A Fixation of the Heart

Love…
…is a fixation of the heart I’ve never understood. I’ve chased it and run away from it. Anxiety has kept it away and trust has brought it close. Desire has given it fire and fear has smothered it. Even in all its confusing ways, I am grateful to be sharing love with you.

“Love” by James Browning
Love:
Amuses and confuses;
Bemuses and misuses;
Enthuses and refuses;
Fuses and bruises;
Chooses and loses;
Excuses and accuses…
All these things and more
Comes with love’s adore.

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Time Makes Love

Love…
…takes time and time makes love. Moving through its chapters, love is ever-changing and evolving. Even when lasting it’s constantly becoming less or becoming more at the same time. I wonder what our love will be like when we’re ninety?

From “Love and Age” by Thomas Peacock
…though first love’s impassion’d blindness
Has pass’d away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.
The ever-rolling silent hours
Will bring a time we shall not know,
When our young days of gathering flowers
Will be an hundred years ago.

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These Things and More

Love…
…is never precisely the same at any two moments. The exact feeling of one hour is not the specific emotion of the next. Love is as inconstant as the sky and like clouds is ever-changing and evolving. Our hearts’ destinies are not within our control but let’s enjoy the journey anyway.

“These Things and More” by James Browning
Love can be as varied as the wind:
a calm and soothing breeze
or a strong and forceful storm,
a warm and soothing stream of air
or an angry and furious hurricane,
a heated gust of passion
or a gentle draft of afterglow.
If time is not found short or hearts lacking,
these things and more we may know.

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Like Yen and Yang

Love…
…is constantly varying and filled with ‘ups’ contrasted with ‘downs’. The high times strengthen for the low times. The good times train the heart and the difficult ones teach the mind. In balance like yen and yang, love has its best chance of survival.

British novelist and poet Anne Bronte
He who
dares not
grasp the
thorn
Should never
crave
the rose.

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Maybe…

I love…
…the passion for life you cultivate in your soul.  You are living proof a person can grow and reshape them self far beyond the past.  I am proud of you.

From the 1996 Movie “Emma”
Maybe
it is our
imperfections
which make
us so
perfect
for one
another.

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Who They Used To Be

I remember…
…going to see “Stomp” in San Francisco and spending half a day wandering Chinatown. What a wonderful time we had on that trip.
 
Writer Unknown
Seeing
people
change
is not what hurts.
What
hurts
is
remembering
who they used to be.

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A Lady Most of All

I remember…
… how modest you are.  In memory that makes me recall you as a lady most of all. I regret I did not always respect your modesty. 

English poet Matthew Prior(1664 –1721) 
Be to her
virtues
very kind,
Be to her
faults
a little blind.

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How You Felt Hurt Me

I remember…
… when I was separated but not yet divorced and it bothered you to be seen with me because of it.  I regret it being an embarrassment to you, but how you felt hurt me.

Elizabeth Barrett to Robert Browning Sept 18, 1845
…that you should care at all for me has been a matter of unaffected wonder to me from the first hour until now – and I cannot help the pain I feel sometimes, in thinking that it would have been better for you if you never had known me…