• Do I believe, in my night's reprieve, in the total agony of love? The total agony in which kings and killers lose their souls; bled to death by Cupid's arrows, shot from an eye more true than that of Ra himself. Dare I call my heart to feel, when in feeling I am only forced to bleed?

    Nay, I say. Nay to that which, in feeling, feels more alike to agony; more akin to the suffering in which Satan's guests are forced to play. Nevermore am I to bleed. Nevermore to lose my love; lose my loving lost Lenore as Poe hath cried before me. And yet, is there not pleasure in this agony?

    Is there pleasure in the agony that we call love? The agony which writhes the angel's wings unto ash in crimson fire. Did not Romeo bleed to feel the kin bleeding of that of his star-crossed Juliet? Did Jack Dawson feel the shot of Cupid's arrows for the sake of pain, or did it compel him towards his beloved Rose, knowing in full that the prize wasn't his in birthright? Why, then? Wherefore?

    Why do men and women fall to these winds? Why would one subject himself to such torture? Have not all who have felt love's cruel sting also felt the pain? Have not the stricken felt the skip of a heartbeat, skipping its beat out of time? Or am I simply looking at this from the wrong side of the coin? Flip, coin, and show me the unscarred side, if there be a side unscarred. Show me the side of Heaven which shines on the silver lining. Show me the gold that shines true without the face of a fool, dug deep into the ground where only the vigilant may find it.

    Am I wrong in assuming that love is agony; that Cupid's arrows administer pain as opposed to anaesthetic, an anaesthetic administered against the pain of all outside pains? Is that rapture that the love-struck seem to experience all an illusion, or a truth beyond my recognition or privelege? How many philosophers and rogue students have said that love is the greatest of truths?

    Am I right or am I wrong? Am I lost or am I found? Am I to feel what thousands upon thousands have long yearned for since the dawn of time, or reject a siren song sung by Satan? Guide me, Lucifer, past the twilight and into the day. Guide me into what no man or woman may ever truly know. Come rain or fire, heaven or hell, rapture or torture, guide me.

    As I walk into the darkest light, I pray to a God I know not that my path is true.