Love is, in fact an intensification of life, a completeness, a fullness, a wholeness of life...
We do not become fully human until we give ourselves to each other in love.*
That's what he said.
If only to live and breath in this love, I would, I have...
given morsels of myself away in ways that have left me incomplete and missing.
My wholeness full of holes.
My intellect challenged through the encounters--empty.
My integrity diminished from the commune with the counterfeit.
And yes, this mortal life, has been intense in the most severe of ways,
to become human with one's who have not touched into the deep of their own humanity.
Those ones who disregard the heart's bleed.
And when this one has run into shell upon shell of bodies,
climbing mere husk for skin hiding shriveled beings, and hardened hearts,
where does one such as self search for love?
Because someone told me, I came into this world to love indeed.
And with this my soul is well, but for the but...
But my soul cries out still, with who and for when?
The answer: from the within.
I look to the intensification and gratification and actualization
for this full, robust, transformative love from none other than my within.
To encounter, respond and commune with myself.
Until...unison.
Because despite the full bloom within,
I still seek to water the bud in another...
erm...It is Well
*He who said is Thomas Merton
