Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Greatest

"There is a reason that all the world’s religions have insisted on dragging down the possibility of love between humans and made it subordinate to the love of an Other that is perfect, precisely because that Other is beyond our reach. The best of lovers is the one that is far, far away, to whom you write love letters in fervent anticipation, and who is not besmirched by the endless disappointing humiliation of contact. And that is why it is those who truly love best, the forsaken soldiers dying in distant lands, suffer the most, for they love the most, and most sincerely. That perfect lover, the one that patiently dries all of your tears, that knows all of your fears without thinking less of you, that comforts you in the long nights that precede those most desperate of trials, cannot, and does not survive contact. That is precisely why the greatest lover cannot, must not, be met. And that is why the most desperate of lovers call their beloved “God” and say to themselves that were He to be seen, were merely His name to be spoken, it should mean certain death. And that is why for the lovers of God heartbreak is always merely a prelude to an even more passionate reconciliation, because their beloved always takes them back, always accepts them back into its bosom, for that beloved which those penitent lovers seek to draw near is permitted one ultimate, unconquerable strength denied to all other things of which we can have thoughts. It does not exist. And in not existing, it does not suffer as a lover does, when the pain of its beloved is inflicted upon it. And it does not become frightened, when it sees how much its beloved has to fear. And it is not wounded by the infidelities of those who swear eternal love, for it has no heart, and no mind, and no presence, and no existence, and no way to hurt, and no way to suffer, and it cannot lie awake at night in your arms, thinking about how foolish it once was to believe in your perfection, and feel those first timid thoughts of escape into the arms of another, one that shall remedy your failings. As the perfect lover does not exist, so the perfect love is that of what does not exist. And that is why, unlike the soldiers abandoned by those that sealed their treachery with solemn kisses, the priests suffer not at all, for they love nothing at all, and are not kissed, not by any, forever, for all time."


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