Opposing, opposing, (A thousand thousand)
Drifting clouds fall from Heaven.

Our Fledgling Reality

The highest joy can so easily become the deepest pain
When what was made real by two becomes the floundering fantasy of one,
For love is true for two, but for one is only insane,
And then, the greatest beauty burns away like a moth flying into the sun.
Our love is our fledgling child, more fragile than one newborn,
Feeding on our faith in our love, ourselves, and each other.
Let not our baby from loving parents be torn
Neither let doubt, fear, nor weakness cause it to smother.
My steadfast insanity will give you the space you need to make yourself sure,
For I can endure the pain of reality obscured when there's hope of your light
And that you might love me all the more and our love will endure
Beyond our lives to the gods, mortals, and our own delight.
Yet, for all the pain of which I complain, I prefer a love insane
To the dark black void of doubt that is seen by the world as sane.

Can every love poem be interpreted beyond the metaphors which relate to physical love to what the medievalist call an anagogical level of interpretation? I believe so. The beauty we perceive in others is a reflection of the absolute beauty that defines God. When we fall in love, we are desperately seeking completion through union with the divine whether we "have religion" or not. However, if we have no god or archetype there is the danger of becoming psychically dependent on another human being who is also seeking an impossible perfection in us.

I believe it is necessary to project our Beloved Archetype on to our beloved human lover, but will still need the idea of the perfect archetype in order to allow our lovers to be human.

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