Jemy Francillon — Folly of Love

I fell in love again today.
Nothing different, just like everyday.
Same in every way.
The only love I know is at first sight.
Subsequent sightings only result in furthering familiarity. Familiarity breeds knowing, knowing breeds understanding. And that, is where the magic is.  

Love isn't magic - it'll happen independently of you, despite you, in spite of you. Understanding however, takes action and intention. Hoping for love is a lazy romantic's passive dream.  

Love is the shiny thing that grabs your attention and begins to dull from the moment it's touched.  
Love is the brand new car that depreciates the moment you hop in and drive off.
Love is the life that begins to decompose at its second breath.

Understanding is what you get when two forces collide, and for a moment meld, before diffusing again with traces of the other now forever a part of them.  Instead of merely becoming one of the same, they are now extensions of the other.  A far more promising and lasting prospect. 

Love is easy.  Save it, if it means I'm held in the same esteem as chocolate chip cookies, pedicures, and naps.  Save your heart for the mundane and the fleeting.  

Leave for me what matters.  Save for me the grey matter - the tumultuous storm cloud that creates the element of intent.  I want that conscious romance, the sort that’s indifferent to the follies of man and the slights of time.  The kind that takes root in the brain and runs a course through my anatomy, plunges into my viscera becoming a part of me, ingrained in my very coding and informing my evolution towards the pinnacles of the human condition.

Condition yourself to know who you are with.  Glean from their words, actions, and interactions who they are.  Comprehend their complete person and grasp a firm hold of their entirety.
Entreat them to do the same to you.  Your mutuality will conquer worlds.  Invite them to know your purpose.  

You should build on each other - sharing, receiving, giving, borrowing.  Growing, growing, always flowing back and forth like a ferocious river of iron banked by boulders of magnets - a constant exchange that will never reach stagnance.  

I’m not a jaded crusader wearing hardened armor against amour.  No, my cuffs are inked with the blood of the heart that links them.  I just fear to stop at love is to settle for the moon when it is the sun who allows it its glory.
I could tie love up in a tennis pun - something about how it's merely a racket to the symphony that is understanding.  But I'd rather serve up something deeper about how love is an ion jumping quantum leaps through eons of communal cognizance.  

I'll fall in love again tomorrow.
Maybe this time her mind I'll ask to borrow.
I'll slide her some of mine in return,
Only way to last is to learn.