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.