trismegistus

Its not a museum piece, our love. Its an organic living breathing entity. It needs attention. Water twice a week. Daily sun. Constant carbon dioxide. And I cant expect or assume it will take care of itself. If I did I suppose it might on its own but I do not want to take that chance. It is a flower of extraordinary beauty and I must do everything in my power to ensure its immortality. To grow it actively. To keep it thriving in full bloom always. Time is flux; we are not frozen in space. We must either try to keep up with entropy or be drug behind it and ground to static dust. To always strive and take nothing for granted. Our love is too important, too rare, too beautiful to not nurture with all the energy at my disposal. And to not think of it as tedious obligation, never! For this responsibility, nay - this privelege, should always keep its youthful caste, its childlike whimsy, its joy of discovery, its playful challenge, its endless art: it shall be fun, my darling, or it shall be nothing at all!

p.s. Felch my schmaltzy ass.