She sulks on the bed, waiting, she is young, he loves me, he loves me, she keeps on telling herself, as if repeating the words will make it real, he loves me, why doesn’t he love, she repeats the mantra, imitating her teacher of yoga from the year before, her former lover. He was big into the mantra, her former yoga teacher, but the lines crossed, lust and need overcame any love that was there, same way the addict needs a hit. I’ll be angry all day unless you give me he says, and she willingly provided, he loves me she said, that was then. Now she waits for her new man to love her even more. A product of the new world, where access to all things, adult or otherwise is easy, she believes as many do, that giving is what love does, it gives. In this mood she repeats her mantra, love me love me, when she has said it a thousand times, it will become permanent in his life, and she will have him. she is an odd woman, born of the modern world.
Solomon sighs, what a conundrum to be in. Say you are of God, as many are, how can you love the Great God unless you love what he or she created. Solomon was reflecting on the words of Jesus; one of the few in terms of global influence among all religions, his words still true to this day. How can you love me if you don’t love those that love me, how can you. Jealous love destroys, real love inspires.
Her relationship takes the familiar pattern; intensity, the burn out, the end. Love only wants the best for you, amen.