Blessed curse

It is said, that the Elvish "sacrament" of bonding, the purest and most permanant version of marriage, -love- in its most elaborate form, is a double edged sword. Both a blessing and a curse to those combined by the ancient rites. Oh! Ellistraee, help me, how true that is! However it is this far more simple form that most races, well at least those who will never see a century worth of days, that cause them so much of the nine hells. That alone, in and of itself that is, just about as complex, forthe amount of years that the parties have to ponder such things.

These beings, I don't think, could ever begin to fathom the meaning of the phrase "forever and beyond" in its proper scope, nor do even the children of the long lived, though not to such a grevious error. I have to laugh, while in a visit in a village, somewhere or another on the surface, when I listen to a child of maybe four or five winters of age (and I am a poor judge of age), clutching a mother's skirts and complaining that what might take perhaps an hour, fetching foodstuffs for the day and what not, that it takes "FOREVER". That same hour, to someone of my years, not that I am all that old in Elvish measures, is but a blink of the eye. I spend at least an hour greeting the Maiden's face when she rises at nightfall, debating whose parchment would look better against my script for the poem I am currently writing, to decide whether to walk or run that day. An hour is so different to people in regards to their totality and because of such, the always young, those short lived, cannot grip the concept of a century, a millenia, let alone forever.

But that is rather irrelevant to the blessed curse that is love, which is actually what I write of and not the sacred bonding. This is something that will capture the minds of just about everyone in one form or another, whether or good nature or of ill. Love, actually, regardless of what I might say, I believe is a postive force. Something that will drive the vilest of hearts to deeds of great selflessness and sacrafice, the mild mannered to commit actions of sheer jealousy.

Now how can I go about still saying that this is such a good force of things predating even nature? That's simple, as it has the roots in the purest of intentions. It is each individual who has caused it to warp into something so devistatingly ugly, that there are many who sit and pray to the gods themselves that it will never happen to them. Wishing that they are never so blind, as to never see what is in front of their noses. It is these individuals that I pity far beyond any others.

On the other hand, I also pity those who do understand, even minutely, the meaning of love. A paradox I know, but it is those individuals that will know the most infinate pain in their lifetimes. "The one that loves you most, hurts you the worse" it is said, and I cannot find anything to prove this to the contrary. Though I am still trying to understand why people, myself included, doesn't do everything possible to avoid that feeling of love. This absolute pain, and bliss.

As I sit and take the time to collect my thoughts in my journal, I think of my husband and what he means to me. Of course I am never -truely- alone anymore. He is always right with me, even if he is far away. Does this help me any? No. Again that blessed curse. Its not the same, as much as he is now part of me, I need him around to complete me.

Is this something I will ever understand? Probably not.