One of my ten favorite definitions of love is: that marvelous state of being in which your own well being is dependent on the well being of another. Just think for a moment. Love is probably the only emotion that we deem worthy of its own celebration day. There are no cards sent for Hate or for Anger’s special day. No champagne corks pop for Fear Day. No one gets chocolate in celebration of Greed. (No. Election day does not count.) The reason is markedly simple: we love to love. We love to be loved. And romance, well, it makes us joyfully lose our mind. (Personal examples excluded.)
Those of you who have stumbled across my biography will note that this scribbler’s most prized writings are the poems he has written to his beloved, which stand published on the north wall of our house. So, if you will, allow me to share a brief segment of the Valentine poem, “Fortune Smiles,” penned years ago for my bride…
Love is a chalice
From which each one may sip,
Thereby enriching all.
Hate is a bowl,
In which unfortunate souls wallow
In vain hope of staunching their pain.
The Fates have sent me Sweet Lorraine
My Soul overflows
I have no need of the bowl.
Happy Valentines Day 