What Is Love?

What is love really? I don't know. A man is meant to love women. Mother first, then wife. I think it is easier for a man to love the Blessed Mother or a female saint than it is for him to love Jesus or a male saint. Perhaps it is just me.

My favorite saint is a woman who I think was very beautiful. I like looking at pictures of her and praying to her. She is my sweet love. I hope to one day be with her in the after life. As a saint she is in heaven and as I love her I know she loves me, only more as she is perfect and with God in love and glory. I imagine saints love the poor souls on earth who pray to them. And the more one prays to the saint, the more the saint loves the poor soul. I pray to her a lot and like thinking about her. I read books about her life and the things she did and how she was a good woman and suffered for Jesus. I love her and she loves me also and I hope to meet her when I die. It is a strange thing to love a woman who one has never met and who died so long before one was born.

I also love a woman who is alive. I do not talk to her but I know she is alive. She knows I am alive. I do not talk to her much. I do not think she cares for me much, as I care for her. The same as with my saint, I hope to be together with this woman in the afterlife as we will not be together in this valley of tears. It is not lust. I think I have learned the difference. But I am not a high-value man according to the world, not having money, or now, even youth. She is not like me, a crazy pious recluse, not that she is successful herself. We are both dysfunctional, me more so than her in some ways, she more than I in other ways. I pray for her as I do for my friend. If my prayers have any value before the throne of God.

Today I went to the Church south of Atlantic avenue and I saw and heard the grackles. I heard their call, even while I was in Church. They were hanging out with starlings. Some black chested, some brown chested. One was eating bread on the telephone wire. It held the bread in its beak and did not swallow it. Then I walked closer and all the birds flew away. I know their call. They are not crows as I thought they were at first, knowing nothing of birds at all.

So, pray for me, my sweet love, my greatest love. And pray for my other love, my living love, and perhaps we will all meet and be together in the end as I hope. My mood is peaceful. But not completely. I am still in this world of sorrow.