That’s why I love you and yet not why.
There are so many reasons, and yet so few,
for love has to be so,
involving and general,
particular and terrifying,
joyful and grieving,
flowering like the stars,
and measureless as a kiss.
The book: Intimacies: Poems of Love by Pablo Neruda
Neruda is one of the chroniclers of love. His poems are at once lush, sensual, and radiant.
Unfortunately, reading love poems when you’re not in love is pointless. My eyes glazed over the carefully translated words as if I were just reading the original text in Spanish. Intellectually I knew the words and sentiment were beautiful, but emotionally, it was a vast cave of emptiness:
Okay, histrionics aside, to simply state matters, I couldn’t relate to his poetry at this point in my life, so I will leave you with one of the greatest love story montages of all time:
You can now find me quietly sobbing in the corner. It’s so good.
End, Memory Twenty Five.
Next Week: Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol Dweck