I could speak of Love as if it had never before been discovered...
For to fall in love is to walk through a Golden Doorway
A new threshold of emotion -
To see sights that were once listless and dull blaze anew with Life.
To feel a Fire only felt by those new creatures at the next level of evolution,
Or three hundred steps further...
I could explain its smell or touch or taste -
Yet the story is ancient...

In every culture, there is the tale of a Fabulous Creature
That disappears in forests,
And the Young Man hunts with an Aimless arrow...

The bird is then wounded -
The deer: wounded -
The tiger, shot with arrow and wounded -
And as he runs to wear he shot the creature,
There lies a woman...

Interruption.
“Key to his hunt, we chased through forests and across plains.
While useful, I was beloved.”

The Desperation!
The ability to suddenly forsake all earlier convictions!
To see now the meaninglessness of life's little demands!
To let go of physical need and cast off material comforts!

To be sick with Love, to shed a third or ninth skin -
To awaken the Sleeper -
The creature within that rages each night
Separated from is glowing, Raging source of Life -
Is this Addiction? Or possibly Obsession?

To love as such, to be sick with Love,
Its black clouds gripping the hills of the high deserts
Like a dragon breathing smoke and fire -
While most find their way through and pass along
Some seek only This
And fall to a living death when it collapses - once more.

Or is this is the intention?
For losing Love brings god to the dead
And pain that only those in pain can understand...

And I lay there, my heart ripped open.

Trying to walk past the Witch's house is futile
When she has not yet shown you the full spectrum of her Arts.

Like taking a shorter path when the long way is jealous
And forces you down its winding wilderness -
Running becomes swimming becomes drowning -
Until you've been properly frighted.
Like paying respects or a debt you always owe.

A tithe perhaps.