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Soliloquy to Love

To be loved or not to be loved; restatement of existential indecision.
No less a question to the universe, no less unanswered, no less
Turned aside by fear of the unknown.
Not to be loved; a land of emptiness plagued by hunger and the 
Inner ache of longing, fanned by friendly words and glances
From a passing soul, of like temperament and wit. A place
Where the brilliant sun is dimmed by thin cloud that sheds cold rain 
Like tears in the loneliness of evening. To be loved, an eternal quest, 
A life traveller gazing at the pinpricks of stars and distant galaxies in 
heart swelling wonder, with expectant anticipation of joy to come. 
Being loved, a precious state of surety of being, inner power and 
Command over life, outward shining happiness to dazzle all about.
These are the head and tails of the currency of living, the coin of
Daily intercourse with those about who gaze back in like manner,
Engaged in their own invisible struggle to find love; but some do not seek love. 
Not to seek love. The safe haven in which the ship of the soul rides serene,
untroubled by the storm of emotion, passion and uncertainty which
Lies beyond the safe harbour. To seek love. To venture into the tumult 
Of the open sea, far from safety, racked with fear and doubt, frightened, 
But with the glow of treasures ever before, luring the happy soul onwards.
An azure sky and evening's soft air, aglow with sunset, the horizon pigmented 
with the flame of love

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