What of love, this nearly tangible essence, surely more than felt, for it is also breathed like the very breath of life itself, that we spend our whole lives in search of, though seldom truly find, the perfect ideal? And how is it we create such a nearly incarnate concept of that which is never truly had? Where does the imagination go to find such treasures as those held in our hearts and souls, treasures we value more than life itself? Without my dreams and desires, without my secrets and mysteries, I am nothing, for these are the things all linked to the one fascination that propels every being forward in life, making another day faintly bearable, as if today will be the day. And yet, day by day goes by and not a glimpse of the dreams manifest in reality, no exchange of glances, no flutter of the heart strings, no yearning of the body for the body. Silence, stillness, nearer to a death state than life. Some would call this perfection, true spiritual ecstasy, to be so quiet, so still, is to be so close to God, but when there is no ecstasy in the state, I think, perhaps, it is to be closer to Hell. To have once yearned, and to know the pleasure of desire, then, to not yearn again, the body nearly longs for longing. To have felt the sweet kiss of bliss, to have tasted the wine which flows forth from passion, then, to never drink again, one could thirst to death. And who is to say that death be not yet present? For in this numbness, I surely cannot be alive. Welcome death, I would, welcome her with open arms, that I might be released from the torment that fills my every breath. And yet, just as the wishes for love go unanswered, so do the wishes for death. Another day is put to bed, and I, reluctantly, with it, alone, save for the perceived comfort found in the arms of a loving and yet cruel Goddess.

       How do we come to know this friend, love? How is it that we make her acquaintance? A child has no thoughts of longing and desire, no want for passion that elevates the body to and otherworldly state, whereby the body no longer exists. A child knows nothing of these things. How is it that, one morn, we wake up, and suddenly rage with the life force that flows in our veins? And with this awakening comes life, true life, pure life, but to what end? To move through life for years on end, either raging for the pleasure or numb from lack of fulfillment, never truly in balance, this cannot be as it was intended. To be so tied to the body is to be removed from the Spirit. Yet we are Spirit incarnate here by choice. To seek release from this body defeats the purpose. Why choose a body when the whole of life is to be spent trying to release from it? "If I knew then what I know now," as the old saying goes. And then again, if we did know then, would we have it any other way? For all the longing for longing, for all the desire to desire, for all the torment and pain it brings, I wouldn't change a thing, save to not numb myself comatose. If I can dream it, it must be something attainable, so I'll close my eyes and dream and in those dreams I shall have my one true love and my one true love shall have me. Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray sweet Goddess my soul to keep. Should I die before I wake, I pray it be in an ecstatic state.