Our journey is lit like the night sky. Each choice a burning reminder, a bright star seared into our memory canvas. Our journey a constellation, a sparkling picture of our defining moments. So we are artists, drawing new compositions on our light-speckled canvasses. We can burn new holes in the night and journey further into unforeseen galaxies; we can create new mythical beasts and heroes as they light our way to our destiny. Hold another person’s hand and look up together at the celestial dome—at the paths to this shared moment and forward to a new and shimmering future.
That is what makes love so powerful. Two wanderers can unite their paths and take on an unimaginable journey together, one that neither lover could have taken or foreseen alone. Love has the potential to change the future: it has the power to make all else fade into darkness or be thrown into blinding light. It is transcendent, capable of searing scars in the collective memory, burning reminders of our passions and love.
“A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art: It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips; not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself. The symbol of an ancient man’s thought becomes a modern man’s speech.”—Henry David Thoreau