As I sit here thinking about it, I probably should have kept this private. Few people are interested in the ramblings of someones heart. These ramblings of mine are not always poetic, but more outpourings of my feelings. I suppose they would be best left in a journal, packed away with other books, to be found someday by someone.
Fascinating to think your journal could be found by someone in the future. Perhaps then the finder would wonder who wrote it, who they were writing to, and perhaps they would wish they could find something as strong as what I feel. Loves journey is one of unbearable agony, unmeasured ecstasy, a blissful journey and yet so lonely. There are few who will speak of love, but many who will carry it in their heart and soul all the day of their lives.
For now I will continue to post these thoughts, because I need to. Something so strong cannot be buried, unheard. So forgive me my ramblings and my hapless talk of love. It is, what it is and I cannot part with it.