Prologue- Passions

Prologue

 

Love. Is there a reason for the word, or a purpose? Is there significance in such a small word? Even as a child I questioned the word. It possesses good, they say, but why is such a good thing so hard to find? They say that once you find it, it’s like you’re floating on a cloud of sensation and the most important part is that it cannot be changed. Love. It’s said to be unstoppable. It’s rumored to be uncontrollable. Hate. A passion defined as so strong that it’s pure detestation. Unstoppable. Uncontrollable. I awaited fifteen years to see the two words collide. If each is so immovable, then in the face of each other which would win? If the loathe is pure abhorrence in the face of an infantile, foolish love, which word would presume to conquer? If it seems easy enough an answer then clearly there has not been an absolute experience of both. Two words colliding in this sense is a rage, a fire that cannot be tamed so much that a man would turn against his brother. But not me. I know better than that. While in detestation a flower blooms, I now stand here questioning what happens to the flower. My country. My life.