Love is out of our control

It is for this reason that for years I have avoided defining it, or, at least have refused to see it within the commonly given personified contexts.

I can no longer trust societal and human habits of conceptualizing surroundings, and existence, as we succumb to language and communication by the use of single words as an understanding of the world and the wonders it is composed of.

The seemingly obvious need of defining love — just to address one specific word amongst many others — perhaps in order to master a life through understanding it, prevents me from accepting the definition of love in dictionaries.

Love, as a word, is not a definitive system. As a concept, it can not be made personal.

As an essence, as an existential phenomenon, it is consistently and perpetually at our disposal, as we live in it, and for it, intrinsically, and beyond our physical existence. In essence, love is out of our control. We are wonderfully victims of it.