Philosopher Friedrich Nietzche said truth is a lie agreed upon. Can something similar be said about love? The poets say love is suicide, and lovers are joined in a pact of tragic suicidal death. A darkly romantic, but ultimately useless notion.
Love isn’t a lie. I believe in romance, and I believe in love at first sight: a chemical reaction triggered by the right person at the right time.
So what is love, but unrealistic hope? Hope, like looking for a single shining pearl in an inky black sea of hopelessness.
Love is hope in a random, reckless world. It is armor against the futility we feel in the face of that senselessness.
Love is our atmosphere against the relentless assault, the constant radioactive bombardment of a chaotic universe.
Love is laying on a bluff of tall grass together, watching clouds drift over on a summer day, while 60 miles and five layers of atmosphere above, the universe blasts away with solar flares, ancient cold, and endless silence.
When love comes, it strikes like a bell deep in your guts. It changes everything. It may not be enough to defeat all your tragedies and villains, but it gives you strength in your legs to rise up off your bloodied knees, wind in your lungs to roar against your foes, and rage in your arms to bring your sword down on them again.
Have you been in love? You’ll know when it happens. Your vision tunnels, then focuses to a pinpoint as your eyes catch across the city street. The clattering noise of the crowd dopplers then mutes. (Because isn’t love a narrowing of perception? An awareness of everyone around you folded and refolded down until there is just two?)
And there it is. Love. Hope.
The world still won’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to when your combined light can shine back against the darkness, together.