Matthew Dean

It is a strange thing,Love.You can hold, in your brain,the knowledge of the hormonesand neural patternsand social conditioningand all the rational elementsof the artifice of love. And yet. It is there, just the same,alone with youin your rationalizations…A soft whisperin your consciousness,that despite what you know,it just doesn’t matter.The experience of lovewill bewill bewill bejust the same,caressing your thoughts,transforming your existence,moment by moment,with absolutely no regard,for the scientific method. Youwill bewill bewill bein love,you will be hopelesslyand helplesslyin love. You will existin the silence,your heart beatingto fill the void. You will see your lovein the powerfully green,sun-dappledleaves of the trees.…