The Improbable

I lay there, hair strewn all over my face,
the desires slowly extinguishing my mind,
each spark dying out profusely,
as a weakenss was mentioned.
The weakness of being in love.
Weakness.

Contrary to this belief,
I found myself questioning the notion.
Weakness?
Or strength?

I spent years in the mellow and simple belief
that love was in fact a strenght,
support,
simplicity,
reliance,
sheer glee even.

Who knew it to be so selfish,
rough,
difficult,
questionable?

Now I wonder at the truth.
My truth.
Is it reasonable
or simply imagination?
Honest
or just a little hope?

Weakness
or Strength?

"Man can believe in the impossible, but can never believe the improbable."

(Quote by Oscar Wilde.)

A Severe Mercy

This, ladies and gentlemen, is it:

"The failure of love might seem to be caused by hate or boredom or unfaithfulness with a lover; but those were results. First came the creeping separateness: the failure behind the failure... We would have our own standards. And, above all, we would be us-centered, not self-centered. Against creeping separateness we would oppose the great principle of sharing. We saw self as the ultimate danger to love, which it is; we didn't see it as the ultimate evil of hell, which it also is."
(Quote from "A Severe Mercy" by Sheldon Vanauken)