Why would love ever appear rational?
It is an irrational, clashing of titanic proportions, but sane.
It the spark before the bang and the deep, hot glow of a glass blower's kiln, uncontrollable, uncertain, chaotic display of socially unacceptable behavior.
All of these things often add up to insane in most people's books.
How can one hold on to this type of irrationality?
Why is there the idea that one must?
Perhaps love is not meant to be contained and carefully defined.
Perhaps it takes two incredibly HUMAN people to be just sane enough to attempt to be that irrational and succeed.
It evokes the same image of the glass blower bare armed reaching a metal pole into a bowl of molten, white hot lava to create something even more beautiful than what those little grains of sands started as...love is a mix of two people choosing to be two people in love. A constant state of uncontrollable, uncertain, chaotic display of socially unacceptable behavior.
If I were only so lucky.
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