Just living it out.

I never was attached to that great sect, Whose doctrine is, that each one should select          Out of the crowd a mistress or a friend, And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend To cold oblivion, though it is in the code Of modern morals, and the beaten road Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread,        Who travel to their home among the dead By the broad highway of the world, and so With one chained friend, perhaps a jealous foe, The dreariest and the longest journey go.

Love is expression, heat, avowal, communication, and therefore a passage of energy from a potential, concentrated state to one that is liberated, radiating, caloric, and thereby endemic and degraded.

Alone and pensive, the deserted plain, With tardy pace and sad, I wander by; And mine eyes o'er it rove, intent to fly Where distant shores no trace of man retain; No help save this I find, some cave to gain Where never may intrude man's curious eye, Lest on my brow, a stranger long to joy, He read the secret fire which makes my pain For here, methinks, the mountain and the flood, Valley and forest the strange temper know Of my sad life conceal'd from others' sight— Yet where, where shall I find so wild a wood, A way so rough that there Love cannot go Communing with me the long day and night?

“And I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.”