Without another set of eyes, I’m blind.
What greater blindness exists than aloneness?
What greater blindness exists than the inability to be alone?
I’ve concluded than there is no greater blindness than a life without love, though there is no greater folly. No greater wisdom, no greater folly, no greater joy, no greater pain.
What does it mean to love? To love is to bite the fruit, the apple, to be forever changed. To love is to bid your old self goodbye. To love is to eat the pomegranate straight from the hand of Hades, to never be the same again.
…
Love is timeless. To love is to encounter infinity. To love is to partake in a communion whose line started with the first human and ends with the last. To love is to break bread with all of mankind — alive, dead, and yet to come.
To love is to stargaze, knowing that every human who ever came before you has shared that universal.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 