evoL

I read books and stories and poems filled with love or imitations of it, but after I glut myself on every description I find I still long for it. Perhaps love is not something to be quenched, then. Perhaps you do not dine on love until you've had your fill, but you constantly nourish it instead. Perhaps it is more like a tree that bears fruit. It isn't always sweet all the time, like apples, but it is always there, and then when it is properly nourished and taken care of you are able to feel the ecstasy of it and know what you have. And, perhaps dining on someone else' delicious love as captured by books and words is only temporary because you can never taste it or feel it again. It's kind of cruel.
Perhaps there is a purpose for Love in books, in poems, and in stories. Maybe we need to know what It is we long for. Maybe we discover the taste so we can cultivate it for ourselves. Maybe we have to taste it to know how to grow it. It might even be more than that. Perhaps we set our standards with what we learn. Perhaps we know what we want to be, and what we want love to be. Perhaps it helps us know what to expect, or what to look for. We need know the flavor we want. If we don't like the taste, than why did we grow the tree?
We need to know what we are getting into. We need to know what kind of fruit our love is. We need to taste it. It isn't a matter of simply what we can grow easiest. It is what will make us happy that matters. Us. That is how we quantify. We find that Love and we grow something unique just with it. That is where no book can provide a step by step manual. This is not unknown ground, though, it is our ground, and only our feet will tread it. There are no monsters there but what we have fed into our hearts. Be careful, then, there is no better measurement of who you are than what you find on that path, your path, of love.