To love always knowing the tragic end looms, if only in death itself - to give freely nonetheless, to say in the moment, yes, my soul swells with sweetness that I will brave not to deny; foolishness or wisdom - I choose the latter. To embrace the ephemeral nature of affinity and the transcendence of love, to simply sit still in the moment and quietly say yes. Not for the return on investment but for the splendor of the singular moment of truth, for the insatiable drive to be in alignment, if only for the fleeting moment. For the truth of love that we so many work to deny in so many minutes of so many days until we are near the end, supine, infirm. Stripped of our pretenses, no longer a servant to fear, it is then that so many of us transcend our shame and confess that we do indeed love. It is when we are supine and infirm that we no longer fear what interpretations will be made of our words, or who will recoil for fear of expectations, or who will recoil for analysis, or who will recoil with suspicion. Those who suffer the luxury of contemplating tomorrow often indulge in fearing it, believing fear will protect. Sad thing is fear does protect. It protects us from daring, protects us from possibility, protects us from the joy of loving enough to feel the pain of disappointment, the pain of rejection, the pain of loss, and the pain of betrayal. But the cost of this protection is high, and in the end, it is a net loss.