“Love is the stark fixation on the future. Where reality resides, that is the moment where things die. Whatever fool believes so much in reality will be a person to die in that cold. Where flickers of warmth are offered, to that person condemned in reality, that is the person who begs. They work, and they beg for more to work for. They are tiny people, with little to achieve, and so much to carry.
Love would be the emphasis on placing their load to the floor, and offering them relief. It is because adaption is instant, while acceptance requires time. That worker, who believed so much in realism, has been someone forced to adapt, in that instant. That worker, who has seen the face of love, will require ever-more work to accept what is before them.
For why have there been people who deny God? Why are there people who are anxious for the future? They do not, because they refuse to, accept what is before them. The representation of love will be devoted to aid, and never devoted to consume the bread already within the beggar’s palms.”
“Each path for a life is like a vein through the body, and each body is a planet, or a city, or a town, or a house, or even stark emptiness. We are alike the cells that multiply into a mass, mindless and controlled by the body, when we deal in sympathy, not empathy. More than all else, no society, no government, no entire nation, can develop a ‘system’ around the empathy that would turn multiplication to addition.”
It is a common assumption that God would ignore all suffering, what with him being called the “God of Love”; and so, I begin to question such people in this, by asking them, “When has love ever been practical?”
Love is no emotion of utilitarian property. None are able to “use” this emotion, for the same reason as one would not “use” their beloved, unless for the purpose of manipulation, which would not imply love. Soldiers are used, and are they loved enough to pull them out of the battlefield? Someone might go for such an action, to tear free a soldier from his plight on the battlefield, and show the soldier the comfort he desires most.
Lust is the way of usage, for it is the opposite of love. Indifference coexists with lust, and it coexists among the mindset of the actual rapist. The rapist would not care to love another, for that would never be upon his mind. The rapist, however, would use the body, and only ever use the body, of anyone he gets his claws upon.
To come back to the question of God, it is asked again, “When has love ever been practical?” The emotion of hatred, however, or even the emotion of fear, and both emotions are always exploited; they are always used, for some very personal purpose. Love cannot be exploited, though perhaps the fears that sometimes mingle in with love, can be exploited. That would turn the love into something more twisted and foul.
Has no one, perhaps over the past 200 years, ever considered that Satan, is the cause for evil, and He would be the one to blame, and to beg to stop the madness upon Earth?
Love is not practical, and cannot mend the actual wounds of a human, such a cut on the arm; because it wouldn’t be the love, itself, but the bandage that is the practical application to heal the wound. Yet, it is also the nerve to care, that might be the love felt, of the healer, for them to apply the bandage. Alike a mother, who, through her love, applies the bandage, because she loves her child. Though, it may also be a heartless thing too, for the nurse to apply the bandage, simply because it is her job to do so.
Therefore, love is no practicality. It cannot be used, to treat. It cannot be used, to cure any ailment of the body.
Yet, what does it do for someone? It does indeed lengthen the span of life, to offer a sickly person hope, through presence. For a person can offer the same love as God, in being present for a person during when they are dying. We deny the existence of God, in the same way that we deny the existence of anyone who would be “there for us”.
Herein is a sickness that succumbs the mind to its brutality. The addiction. The drug, as the addiction, is the intake of sheer pleasure. Wherefore does not a song, during today’s time, speak of love to be a drug, and not the cure to woe? Love cures the heart, whereas a drug plagues it with fear. Tension and more tension, is the brutal nature of the drug. And we all soon come to place admiration and even great reverence upon these songsters, and say that love is indeed a drug. And yet, it is also an illness; so, is this where we believe it to be a drug? Love sickens the heart, only through absence. Yet, when love is present, it overflows the heart with joy.
Love would be called the drug, because of only a one-sided understanding of what it means to say the words, “God has no existence.” This would inevitably cause the belief in saying that love is a drug. As only a sickness, or a taint, to be cured by something else, by perhaps the raw pleasure from an actual drug, such as an opiate, rather than that love as a sickness being cultivated. It is not love that causes the fear, but the fear that causes the fear.
Without the love, there is the fear, and yet, just as the Earth shifts in magnetic reversal of the poles, we go from it being believed to be a sickness, to believing it to be a cure. We are Christians, to say that love is a cure. We are humans, and only ever humans, deep in our indulgences, to say that love is a drug. Humans are full of self-indulgence, without a cure, and only the fear that resonates with question, and endless question after that.