A Question; No Answer

 

Be of love(a little)

More careful

Than of everything

e. e. cummings

“love is a guess/ that deepens”[i])  When I try to talk about love (“What is Love? Is Love in this/That flies between us, in a kiss?”[ii]), language deceives me; my mind betrays me, in a rather devious manner. I cannot define describe depict delineate demarcate expound my feelings [“your eyelids’ flutter which says/ we are for each other”[iii]] on this subject. Love is sharing (“this is Love, and Love is here.”[iv]) ice cream. More than a thousand poets have tried to define describe depict delineate demarcate do it (“But what is Love? Say now; who knows/ Or where he lurks, or how he shows?”[v]), and still we are not even close to a more or less concrete answer. Love is, according to e. e. cummings, “any illimitable star.” And Herbert Horne says that it is “a Light, in darkened ways.” Love is She, and She is Love; nothing more I’ve got to say. (“that deepens[…] your eyes…”[vi]

 

 


[i] E. E. Cummings, Complete Poems 1904-1962/ edited by George J. Firmage.  New York, NY: Liveright, 1994: 1027.

 

[ii] Herbert Horne, “A Question and an Answer,” in Writing of the ‘Nineties: from Wilde to Beerbohm/edited by Derek Stanford. Dutton, NY: Everyman’s Library, 1971: 143.

[iii] E. E. Cummings, op. cit.: 291.

[iv] Herbert Horne, op. cit.

[v] Ibid.

[vi] E. E. Cummings, op. cit.: 1027.

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