We Did Not Fall Into Love- Additional Thoughts . . .

We Did Not Fall Into Love ~  

(Part 2) For the Love of a Dragon ~

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/modern-love-to-fall-in-love-with-anyone-do-this.html?_r=0

I had a few ongoing thoughts about our love, and extenuating relationships. Strangely, this has always been an area that has fascinated me, perhaps because its idea has thwarted me for so long. . . I admit that I do not understand it. I have never wandered into the folds of abundant beauty and poison . . . it escapes me that people would want it. Is love far beneath my notice?  Perhaps some of this is, after all, embedded in my personality. To plunge in the midst of a passionate twist, not to stay upon the sidelines, seems foolish. This does not necessarily mean that it is foolish. Only to me that it seems so.

I've always joked, that if love was staring at me, two inches away from my nose, and hanging upside down from a branch that I'd stepped on- I still would not know it. For some reason, there is a- let's call it a glitch if you will- in the lattice work, the cogs in my head, which always seems to prevent the danger.

I take some kind of strange pleasure in doing it on my own. The Independent rears her head, and rashly tosses back her head; very few people can think when she is present. It is a colorful presentation. Her wings are grand and painted red, but her handiwork is something to be marked; not many people can pursue her . . . she wins the battle, every time She is something unchained, unbound to earth . . . she soars wherever the wind takes her. She is the beauty and the soul of passion.

I have paid a high price for her, though, grand as she is. So great is her desire, so intense her passionate ways, that they do not suit the common ground. There are very few who can shake hands with a dragon. Perhaps, this is part of her charm. Has it made me an object, perhaps? Love is not of this world. Although it effervesces through life and flows as the primary connection between people, we cannot touch nor can we fully examine love; it is not something that we hold in our fingertips.

Alas, my grip is weak. Perhaps, if I was not clenched inside the dragon's grasp, it would be easier to touch it; as it is, though, I must contend with the dragon, and abide her mistakes. Her beauty, as well as her radical pride, must be mine to hold. I cannot fight with a dragon . . .

If I could, then perhaps I might even yet touch the earth. To do so with the dragon at hand seems a foolish thing, even to myself. It is not likely that she will ever become humanized enough to walk with man, and take love unto her breast. Perhaps she will, though in time.  

Only in fantasies do people fight with dragons. Is love a worthy cause perhaps? If it is effervescent, and all-encompassing, perhaps love is not inasmuch a fantasy- and, perhaps, that is the initial point. Is love real? Can we really fall into love?

This is just the question . . .