The Entombment of Love
The days of unbridled passion are over-how does love waver after so long a time? This is not easily answered. Length of that love should strengthen the bond, not weaken it. The years together should become years in which human love relationships become validated. Growth in each person is celebrated and transformed into deeper understanding and meaning, cherishing its longevity. Instead, over time the physically thrilling, emotionally fulfilling and completely all-consuming love changes and many times dies.
If one is lucky, falling in love with another person is one of the most important lessons in life. Feeling this emotional fulfillment may be felt more than once. Justifying that the love felt with another was nothing more than infatuation and that it was not meant to be. With this new feeling of immense happiness, this new love is ‘the one’. That it’s somehow destined by fate, its perfection is above all other tribulations. As if past relationships did not exist. Justifying that it was not ‘true love’ -it never occurred and is erased from one’s inner self.
When love is new, all signals of doom are ignored. The dragons that linger close are imaginary, the devils whispering in lover’s ears to use caution, to slow down, not to give oneself so completely, not to trust where trust is not yet merited. One smacks the dragon on his snout. Swat the little devils away from ears that only hear sweet nothings of never-ending happiness. Although the dragon and the devils disappear– they linger in the lover’s peripheral vision. Blinders make those ugly creatures invisible. The lovers only see a harmonious, glorified future and embrace the loving magical journey of a blissful life together. Giving oneself to another -believing that both the emotional and physical climax will last forever– for the absence of this immense feeling of utter joy would surely cause death. The continuation of becoming and being together surpasses all things in life. There is no room for speculation or questions – this love is unquestionable.
The inception of a love in its infancy has no age barrier on emotional attachment. When young, one can blame inexperience, but the truth is that the heart is everlasting, forgetting it once was broken. How can one live without the exhilaration of love and what it truly is? The delightful, euphoric, and unexpected feeling in the bottom of one’s inner self, rejoicing that the emptiness for so long is filled. Love stories begin like this –Consumed with the dedication to the beloved’s greatness and that this happiness will never end or change. How does one know when it’s over? Does the soul and heart mourn and suffer more because it loved so deeply? So many questions pertain to the uncertainty of the end of the image of forever – which is a notion, an idea, a hope for the continuation of a love that was committed to another love, to another soul? How can two people become one when they are two individuals, independent from each other? Only once in the in the creation of souls have two become one, only once can one say for certain that one body is within another. Which grows and inevitably becomes another being, only a woman can experience this; it grows from a bunch of cells to a human being.
The rites of the imaginary, of two lovers becoming one, is a fable that all lovers believe, the two souls make another soul – love that is unyielding and ever present within the two. That one small soul becomes independent and in time will join with another soul – thus multiplying and continuing the human chain. However, it’s a chain and circle that at times becomes broken, diseased, ugly, and eventually dies. The heart is broken, torn and suffers greatly in the midst of the end of the relationship. The dragon that was ignored and banished once again appears. It smiles, barring its large white pointy teeth in a righteous grin. The little devils come and once again sit on the lover’s shoulders snickering and screaming in ears so loudly that the ringing can cause insanity, but they only become louder. Their mouth smacking and teeth grinding without end while inside – the soul mourns and sighs with pain. The dragon with its green scaly odorous smell sits on the chest, making it hard to breath, the forlorn lover feels death approaching.
The heart that once beat for the union of a love that was to last forever now beats irregularly. The demons that at one time were burdensome – were cherubs, the dragon an Angel. But through banishing and ignoring those warnings, not hearing what they had to say when love was new, are now entities of pain. They stab, probe and gleefully rejoice in the constant suffering and inconsolable sobbing of the love that is dead. Recovery is not possible. No remedies alleviate the malady of the wound that had been patched so many times with the timeless hope of something that cannot be. The lover that fell for the promises that were broken, the lies that were told repeatedly, finally demolishes the bridge that allowed them to walk together above the ugliness below.
The heart breaks into smithereens, although it longs to fly over the destroyed bridge into the other’s breast, it is forever unattainable. The beloved’s spirit is closed, locked, and indifferent – the lovers bury their longings for each other in the tomb of failure. Can one surpass the grief of a cremated heart? Many have done just that, although a piece will always be missing it’s on the other side of the broken, dilapidated, and dangling bridge. Love-it’s a misconception, for when the heart feels- the head doesn’t think.
Tina Turner sang about this long ago:
“What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken”
© Lorelei’s Musings all rights reserved