The Unconditional State of Love

Some refer to love as what should be meant as unconditional, as though stating it for the sake of promotion. If love is not always unconditional, then how is such able to remain beyond death? How does a person retain memories of what was lost of what was trusted, if the love disappeared with the trusted flesh? When someone dies, we say our farewell to them. Their death symbolizes the death of trust. What remains is love, for that is why a grieving person is in pain.

Being haunted by a memory means that love has no conditions to it, beyond death as it lives. If love could ever be with a condition involved, then grief would never be a thing. Grief would not exist, because to a condition, there is a barrier, while with grief, there are walls being raised. Those walls that the grief-stricken person places up are against future flesh, future humans to be trusted. What is trusted out of being vulnerable in grief might bring on further hurt. It is in losing trust, not love, that a person does not know who to trust because they have all there is to still love.

The grief that displays itself as a condition is the one against trust, not love. Love is kept with the grieving person, because love’s phantasmal presence is the memory. A spirit is merely the memory of flesh, as its haunt reminds a person to either grieve or be as at peace as the dead.

If God is love, then his son is the flesh. The spirit would be the memory of the flesh, as it was lost before Christ had ascended. Love is not trusted, though simply kept. If love was something to trust, we could eject it from our hearts through forced amnesia. If at all to trust love or God, it is, inevitably so. No one is able to eject what is perhaps most trusted, of all things, when it no longer holds a physical shape.

For the sake of something as beautiful as what was trusted, now rested in the earth, we were attached. When the body was rested, there was the physical attachment displaced, while the non-physical or metaphysical attachment remained. It is not possible to release love, bury it in the soil, any more than it is possible to forget a significant memory. If a person made it into a great effort to forget an event, it must be enacted upon only because it was important. That event’s importance, whether of a positive or negative one, holds significance upon its impact. Wisdom is thus the outcome of life that must move past grief, towards a peaceful state of mind.

Grief knows to be conditional, as this is wise when vulnerable. As grief is the state of literal loss, then in being vulnerable, one could lose more when trusting without conditions. In love being inherently unconditional, there is no way to block what comes and remains of it. Significance of event is the place of love, that whether positive or negative, is not ever of specifics. Love is thus gray. Whenever a person should state that someone’s love is unhealthy is not referring to love, though instead is referring to trust. One can be unhealthy through trust, because unlike love, there is bound to be the loss of something alike, while there will be more conditions placed on the future.

It is in being unconditional that, in love, there is its element of being boundless. What is memorable is not able to be conditional, due to its essence of boundlessness towards the past. As the past cannot be altered, then nor can love to be something ever changeable. If the time machine is ever said to be what is only possible for its forward motion, then this follows the unconditional nature of love with the conditional nature of trust. Time is the changeable aspect of future, haunted by what is both positive and negative of the past. The past is black and white, while the future is unseen. This means that the future is bound to what might become dead, a moment later. If the future dies, then so does hope. A life being buried was this, though is not for those who remain. At the same time, love does not represent the future, though the past, as such is only what is being carried forward.

If, in love, one is able to know the past, then the future is kept in ignorance. We are ignorant of what might die, of when we might die, and when the future is complete darkness. However, the future’s light is unable to die, because of the inevitable continuation of existence. What guarantees the continuation of life or existence is the inevitable movement of it. When in grief, a person is stagnated by it. When remembering the good or the light of the past, the hope or the light of the future remains lit.

Existence will remain common, though what is impossible of knowledge for existence is what will halt its movement. That is because what is equal to love is death, out of both residing in what is both a certainty and an inevitability.

Existence cannot be completely halted, because as love cannot die, then to life there must be what is able to end. Life is able to end, though not entirely. It is not, due to something needing to die. If love cannot die, then life must be the volunteer for both love and death. What would define love as life’s creator is being all that is left, upon the absence of life. All of love, in its indefinite presence, is made to reside upon the absence of life for life’s recreation. Life is recreated or created, upon the absence of it, though never the absence of love.

It is due to love’s impossibility in being absent that it remains inherently unconditional. By being unconditional, it resides in the past, though presents hope for the future in how life can remember what was good of deceased life. Deceased life is forgiven, because there is no hope for its betterment. Life’s death is the closest it can come to the perfection of love, now as the absolute of death.

Philosophy – “Why Love doesn’t Comprehend Time” – 5/15/2021

“As we love, we feel the other person, never ourselves. To this degree, we realize that through such love, it does not die, even in death. Within our heart, we feel them. To feel the other person has us comprehend the limitlessness of our beloved’s existence, even during the flesh’s non-existence.”

– Modern Romanticism

Love is, what duration is not. There is no expiration to love, marked as a tag upon its very worth.

We feel the other. It is not us, that we feel, through love. To ourselves, in such “love” for however it is felt, would instead represent its opposite, being fear. To ourselves, by ourselves, we are fearful. We are so, because in that vulnerable aspect of being alone, we are afraid to trust, once again. Trust would weaken us, so that we are revealing vulnerabilities to someone we understand as equal to ourselves. We’d come to know that they share the same vulnerabilities as ourselves.

It is because of fear, by such lone vulnerability it presents, that we are durable. We have duration, as we reveal our flaws and limitations to the open, to anyone. Such is a deception, because to reveal our imperfections to just anyone, is the same as to no one; thus, it is comparable to loneliness. It is through love that we have unlimited strength. For to fight for someone else, rather than just ourselves, we discover what it means to fear for, rather than to fear another person.

Even after the death of a beloved, love exists. We will wish, as perhaps Atheists, to want for God who represents love, to reveal Himself. As evidence, that is. Though, in sameness through that mindset, we will also state that God is dead.

Even in death, our evidence for what can be proven, cannot be at all. It is what’s being kept close, never meant to be spoken about through criticism, that “proof” has no meaning for what we cannot possibly question. How can we question what we feel, for its truth, without attempting to revive it? Such would form the criticism against what we claim to not understand, when we do. A question upon love would be to limit it, being against its essence within eternity.

Beyond the limited duration of life, love holds onto what remembers. Through death, love pushes us forward. Though, we’ll continue to remember. We will, as though we’ve lost them during the previous moment.

If we feel another, even after their death, then what evidence is there to offer when flesh is dust? And, we cannot hold out evidence for what is dust, in flesh, though so real, in the heart.

Imagine the torment the human mind would have to endure, were we to be suddenly absent of the memories, meant to offer us comfort, upon a loved one’s death?

Who so non-empathetic, yet so scientific, would find it wishful enough to offer “treatment” to the grieving individual, upon sight of their tears? Such tears are calming for the grieving one. Tears comfort the mournful one, all due to the memories that remind the living of life’s importance. If one so non-empathetic, yet so scientific, could believe another is impaired by their grief, then they’ve yet to understand what keeps life moving.

It is always the past that gives life hope. Such is the only representation of the future, being hope.

Love, the past.

Hope, the future.

Quote – “Pain, in Love” – 11/26/2020

“Do we ever forget who we love? Or, do we ever forget who loves us? Are we to reduce ourselves to the selfish fool, who cannot appreciate the selfless gesture of kindness? It is in our pain, that trust has died, not ever love. Love does not become torn apart, for that is not what pains us. Whether distrust, or impossibility for continued life, we are pained by the memory. We are only ever in pain, at the time of the beloved’s departure, because we still love them. Whether that be in death, or in a simple leave, the eternity of love is proven upon a singular realization: that, the rooms are empty, though they never left.”

– Modern Romanticism

Quote – “A Notion about Life and Death” – 6/21/2020

“Comprehend it, as it may seem, that the soul is real. Non-existent, lacking matter, lacking physical structure, and so unlike the form. But, it retains its place in the world. Attempt to resurrect a form as the person with the same personality and memories they were, in life, and it is impossible. Memories are the last visions a person sees, upon the moments of their death. It is because memories are of the soul. Memories make up the experience. Memories make up how a person wakes up, and then, falls asleep, when alive. Without memories, a person is not a person. Without memories, and while a person has been resurrected, they maintain only their physical structure, not their mind. We prove now that love is of the mind, objectively so. It is the head of the family of collective gatherings. Those memories are taken to ‘Heaven’ upon the time of death.

Memories cannot be re-attained upon the point of a person’s resurrection. They have already been transferred to the realm where the dead go, where the soul goes.”

– Anonymous

3rd Rewrite of Opening – “A Dream once Loved” – Attempting a Hook – 2/13/2020

Memories are there for the mind to soak itself, in waters so murky or translucent, that feelings will continue to haunt and create sensations for the body to feel.

Alessio is feeling upon this day the pain of hardness. Though, it is in a meditative state. For he is sitting with his eyes buried in the written words of a newspaper, and his right hand touching a cup of coffee needed for his morning to be wakeful. The newspaper is laid upon the table before him, and his apartment creeks with the groans of oldness, what with the season out-of-doors being Autumn. For it is that the wind is brushing itself, as though to kiss, the exterior of this abode.

He had moved here from Italy in the act to escape from a past ridden with needless complexities. And, for another reason, that is to begin his own life, without the former reason keeping him from pursuing new interests.

The Tena Poems – Truest Love – “The Final Vow” – Romance – 9/18/2019

I give thy finger a circle of gold,
Before the altar that releases,
Our ongoing fulfillment,
Of love.
Blessed are thee, when you shiver,
Under a haze of rising stars,
Under a night sky with fevers increasing
In their temperament,
And ongoing fervency.

How you find yourself locked,
In the sky’s open wings,
Crying beneath merciful love.

I find thy beauty entrancing,
Melting away sorrow.

This final vow will be a glimpse to you,
Into a memorable future.

That great circle of gold, that has surrounded a finger’s flesh,
Makes me smile a smile of warmth,
Of temperatures heated,
Like summer at its height.

I am with you, woman to my heart,
That has glistened itself by the sting of pain,
In former lives.
Because you are, as well, with me,
There is no more,
No more pain to share its twilight,
On this ruby stone for an organ,
Falter, as we will, to consume it all.

All of beauty’s auras,
That which you convey,
Will find meaning in that circle of gold,
Of that final vow,
Foiled by nothing,
Only touched,
By the great warmth,
From love’s breath.

Poem – “I Took a Dive into Hell, and Found Love Waiting” – Romance – 9/7/2019

Your face,
With idle tulips grown from lips so sweet,
And eyes so resplendent against the moon’s gleam,
I wish to know of your beauty.
Of glassy complexion, and everything wanting,
Of everything wanted, by me.

You have a heart that needs holding,
For it deserves freedom.
There are chains,
Needing to be removed,
A love I have vowed to embrace,
With all my brutal might.

My beauty,
With arms so bared against the cold wind,
And a slender form against the warm flame,
Of my desires and their fanned selves,
Made to stoke, made to raise,
Made to also freeze the world into contentment.

I vow to love, and love forever.
Shall we take on the world, in force?
I will take your hand in blessed marriage,
I have commanded a train of this love,
So that it may take us further,

To a meadow where we’ll lay and kiss.

Beauty deserves a moment of adoration,
And love deserves an eternity of intoxication.

Poetry of Longing – “I Fell upon a Thorn” – Poem #2 – 7/8/2019

Unloved and made for pain,
Here is me, made for the world to see,
What is death with a breath?
What is love without the sigh?

With a face once so full of gold,
And no more beauty to behold,
Angel wings burned,
A life upturned,
Like mine,
And I fell upon a thorn.

Sympathy is the reward of the overthrown,
Stepped down to meet a nation of dust.
Empathy is my very foundation,
Where rust and floods are the foundations to my home.
I am made trivial, and swollen,
To the proverbs of a desperate age.

You drive the earth forward
With your gentle push.
You make my lips turn upward,
With your frugal song.
A song of light and plight,
A song that cries to open fields.

I am lifted by love and its grace,
Raised by age and despaired by loss,
What has become of me,
Upon this lonely sea?

Oh, love, without the breath, it is empty.
Without the death, we are empty.
Without the protection, we are frail,
Frail and alone.