The one I have chosen to love.
To set my affections on.
To choose before myself
And hold in highest regard.
This love is an matter of the will,
An active decision.
Made again.
And again.
Not waiting for an external stimulus
As one who helplessly waits for Cupid’s arrow,
But rather it is a resolution,
To love.
The feelings of love are companions on this journey.
Note, I only call them companions.
For they are fickle and often prefer self-serving destinations
And hence are unfit to lead the pilgrimage,
But are a most welcome accompaniment.
For the Beloved is not loved because they serve our feelings
Rather the feelings are employed in service of the Beloved.
And lastly this love is most clearly discerned
When it is shown
And not simply declared.
The words “I love you” mean less and less
When said in the absence of actions to prove it.
Hence, for my Beloved,
My love is an act of my will,
Not led but rather accompanied by my feelings
And leading to a cascade of actions
And exploits done
On behalf of my Beloved.
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