Love and Marriage

An author once pondered the idea that perhapse marriage was not a means by which we found happines, but a grace of God in which we are made holy. This is in fact more true than I am prepared to be comfortable with. I want my happiness, and I demand my right to attain what I imagine to be the real thing. I want, in some way, a marrige that gives me a world in which I am truly belong and in which I am truly happy, not only with my surroundings, but truly happy with myself. I want a life that has lingered in the eye of my imagination for perhapse too long, almost like the feeling you get when staring out at sea. There in the endless waves, all is clear and wide. The horizon is not brokean by anything, and what lay beyond that horizon is a matter of dreaming. Somewhere out there perhapse there is a better place, a place where I can escape myself and find who I was truly meant to be. The sound of the breaking waves and the cool air on your brow bring such a beautiful longing that it could break your heart to let that longing fully take you.

I find it to be true of marriage that we all look out to the horizon of time and hope in the same way. That perhapse out there somewhere, is a marraige or dream of a marriage that would truly satisfy that longing. Perhapse the dream is real and I have missed it. I have missed the chance, the last boat, to take me away from myself and fall in love with someone who would really make me happy, and make me better. And there are some who break their ties to their first love and venture out upon the waves, and there are those who secretly live another life, as one person in one life and another person in another life. And then there are others who give up and succumb to the erosion of time and dissapointment, slowly loosing all they think they have left.

And yet there are those that come to the place where they know not what to do, and they hurt because of they know not what. There are those who stand at the shore and drink in the sight with their eyes and then turn and head for home, not knowing exactly why. Some are entrenched in stubborness and some are strapped in habbit while others are caged by fear. But there others who are stuck in all the above and yet are compelled by something else to rebel against their stubborness and fight against their habbit and push against their fears, while still walking home.

These are the walking dead. But they shall live again, and live to see the sea in their first's love silver eyes.