love

 there has been a surprising lack of thought i have felt necessary to share the last few days

but even with myself?

this has gotten to conscious of potential observation.

love is a funny thing. that is what they say right? i fall in love in moments. with others and with myself. it seems love is imperfect in that it is not accessible, predictable, applicable to all the right moments. and it comes out of nowhere and when you need it to show it, it may be elsewhere and when you want to deny it and hide it, there, here, it is in and on your face.

perhaps nearly everything about love is cliché. perhaps that is because i am from a conditioning - cultural, spiritual, familial? - that fears acknowledging love. that does not want to get stuck and entombed in the sap. glued to yourself or another or a place. that love opposes freedom. because freedom is to be individual and aligned only to ideology, to a way of being, and love apparently is no way to be, it is a force, a phenomenon, to which one is submitted. it can make you change your whole notion of future. you can give up potential pathways and turn your back on open doors to jump into the boat and float the river of love. 

they mean it when they say let it guide you. you do relinquish to it. but it does not conquer you. instead it is as if your entire naked form were doused in sunlight and the tension of your body cannot help but drain, the levels receding from the top of your head downward. like when you slip because you do, let go without anything more stable on this side to grab to, into sleep. oh but maybe it is not true because i have been squeezed into a tube of love where i could not move and i had nowhere else to look but straight at it until it became painful because it and i could not reach each other. but maybe that is obsession because how can love not move? love has to been in action, as they say. 

anyway

i want to learn how to write about love. starting out gets me so jumbled, rushing to finish, to say or not say something succinct so we can get on with bigger things. there is the rub. raw. when it should be balm, salve. isnt everything i believe in, hope for, advocate on behalf of, as idea, rooted in love? in the hope that our kind, humanity and before and beyond can find that optional source in every moment to move out from instead of all of the other drives? to lay love down as the foundation of how we shape and reshape this reality?

and yet i want to run away from it. say yes yes we all know. love love. sure sure. itching and twitching and fidgeting. when will i be able to look love in the heart?