I think Love is disappearing. I think it is an entity that has fallen into the abyss. Maybe it yearns to free itself from the self imposed chains. But it can’t, it is already dead.
As the tangle despairs, I am the clay tablet that defines ‘I loved and lost’, and forevermore will I seek that last value on this earth before the souls come for me.
But they are beckoning at my heels, calling for me to join their writhing pain. These souls. Who claim a righteousness to their calamity, a justification to their emptiness, that once they proclaimed.
Why did they fall into the darkness of this one last charity of Christ. Love is all there is. Unless there are one hundred other things. I am called to be divine. I am called to fill a void. I am called… because love has abandoned me – they proclaim… When it presents an offer – they shield their response in a vast chamber of hollowed bones and rhapsodyed chains that clatter about like an embodied being in a tomb bequeathed of dank walls and spider webs.
I asked a man if he would rescue me – but he was too busy. I asked another, but he had bigger plans. The souls blanched and atrophied into skeletons of lost existence as they eschewed their hearts and flesh of the one singular command – and ran into the fields of fodder to escape what was the last voice of our God. Love.
I asked and the men of Christ declared – ‘it is not for me to do’. Their love is brandied. It ages well – but they drink not of its bounty.
And so, I am told that these grand men who verily acknowledge their Godliness do not extend that command – in favor of self. The ever psychological word “I” that has created a self world of self rapture and disguise.
“Are you well?” Or is your entirety of being tied to the instinctual intersection of me? The same man who is distraught that nary a woman can he find to fall in love – to embrace – to hold and not nurture… For the entirety of the question was – “Will you rescue me” – as in when it all dissolves and the world implodes and explosions are rampant and chaos is unleashed – do I mean anything – or will you watch me die? Because my Godly divine purpose was and is Helper to the one who will embrace me.
The answer was –
What good is it to ‘survive’ if we are walled, wasted and immune of cherished love? Our existence reduced to “I”. “I” am told – My hearts is of God and you must take care of yourself. Adam died. Should I mourn his death? Should I let linger?
God is thus given the sole troll of providing all love, all being, all power and man is a relegated manchild wherein love is of no self-worth. I query if God would support this isolation? Of the dispensation of his most coveted proclamation of existence.
If man can no longer assert love of a helper how can he possibly assert love of mankind? The logical pyramid would erode. The seas would ripen in their lament of the Fallen. And the fallen would blame the others. Until the fallen became the vigilantes they fought.
The quest is a dying decree. Seen as a distraction, an annoyance, a folly of what is now a focus of Singular I.
We could get very specific with our requests, and, not be choosey over who or
where it is answered. People are not as smart as pets!
I enjoyed reading your essay on love. I have thought about what you wrote since last night. I have experienced unrequited love, too. Humans do not love well. We try but most of us fail at loving one another unconditionally as only Jesus can. My love journey is quite tragic spanning over a lifetime into my old age. Nowadays, I put all my human love into a dog with epilepsy that was used for lab experimentation. Through my rescued dog,I see the tears of the world – the deep suffering both humans and animals experience. I think I am experiencing a lesson from God.
When I was in my early thirties, I volunteered at a mental hospital to bake a cake for a woman in a wheelchair who could not walk or use her hands. I do not know what disease she had. Her wish was to bake a cake. The day I arrived, I found her sitting by the door in a bleak dark hallway waiting for me. I wheeled her to the homemaking room as directed by the staff. It was a pitiful looking room strewn with cooking items. The walls were dreary. There was no recipe books. The woman could not read anyway. So I wheeled her over to a bowl I found and gathered together some butter, flour, eggs and sugar. I did not bother measuring the ingredients as I could not find any measuring cup or spoons. I placed her hands over an egg and held my hand over hers. Somehow, I got the egg cracked and into the bowl without hurting her hands. I was filled with tears as we journeyed together mixing the ingredients – my hands cupping hers. The cake came out rather lopsided but the woman was thrilled.
Your essay brought this long forgotten memory to mind. I looked up some quotes this morning on u required love and found this one.
“I never expected you to love me, I didn’t see any reason that you should. I never thought myself very lovable. I was thankful to be allowed to love you and I was enraptured when now and then I thought you were pleased with me or when I noticed in your eyes a gleam of good-humored affection. I tried not to bore you with my love; I knew I couldn’t afford to do that and I was always on the lookout for the first sign that you were impatient with my affection.” — W. Somerset Maugham, “The Painted Veil”
I was never loved. Only God can truly love. ❤️
They’re just male, not men (junk male)
Beautifully written, but sad, as is so many lives, lost, bereft of love.