║ fifty-third stanza ║ voice

[mumbled_truth]

[One romantic young poet is hard at work, as can be evidenced by the sound of his writing scratching away on paper. He quietly speaks to himself as he works.]

A feeling as if-- in flight? Soaring, free? Of bursting, of-- of... joy beyond measure. But no, no word is adequate. No phrase not overused, not worn out and thinned until its meaning has been lost.

[There's more scratching now, the inelegant editing process of a writer whose process demands the physical obliteration of any turns of phrase he finds inadequate. Now he addresses the Network.]

Foolish, isn't it? That we so frequently attempt to quantify, explain, or represent the feeling of love... No phrase has yet proven adequate, no painting impassioned enough, no song quite potent enough, to capture the feeling. A pure, raw feeling which grips you at your core, against which you are powerless. That which can move us to words we did not know we could speak, actions we did not know we were capable of, depths of emotion we did not know we could experience...

There are no words for love; there is only the experience, and it cannot be replicated nor simulated. Love is...

It is love, and though it has been tossed about, used and misused, applied without discretion to that which pales in comparison to its truest form, weakened and watered down through such linguistic carelessness, there is no other word. Nor will there ever be.

[With a sigh, he turns off the device.]

Comments

[primrosella.livejournal.com]

[...Well, just strike right to the heart of this young lady's problem, why don't you, yon poet.]

You are a poet, sir.

[mumbled_truth]

Well. I am something of one, or I do try to be.

[primrosella.livejournal.com]

You're very talented. And quite insightful, I should think.

[mumbled_truth]

Oh-- well, thank you, that-- that's very kind of you.

[primrosella.livejournal.com]

If...you'll pardon my forward question, are you writing with someone in mind?

[mumbled_truth]

I'll certainly pardon it.

And the answer is yes, I am.

[selenoscape.livejournal.com]

Oh, that was beautiful!

[mumbled_truth]

Oh, why-- thank you. I'm glad that you think so, and... I do appreciate it, very much.

[selenoscape.livejournal.com]

You're welcome. You must really love her.

[mumbled_truth]

You could say that; though, I think even just grasping the most abstract concept manages to elude us more often than not.

[chosered.livejournal.com]

Love is love?

[mumbled_truth]

I suppose that's what it boils down to.

Truth be told, I just doubt any synonyms quite do it justice.

[chosered.livejournal.com]

I didn't know you were in love.

[mumbled_truth]

I didn't think I'd managed to hide it so well.

[chosered.livejournal.com]

Maybe I'm just not perceptive.

[antimonycarver.livejournal.com]

_[dreamysigh]

[mumbled_truth]

[That, he had not expected.]

... hello?

[antimonycarver.livejournal.com]

_{[Annie straightens up. She is still awkward. but it's a bit cute not gonna lie]}

Oh. Hi.

[mumbled_truth]

[Todd's plenty shy and awkward himself, so he's certainly in no position to judge anyone else for it.]

Hi-- um, I'm sorry, I... wasn't sure if you knew your feed was on.

[antimonycarver.livejournal.com]

I just thought- _{[oh let's look at the floor. now seems like a good time to do that.]} I didn't mean to disrupt you. If I caught your attention, it was inadvertent. I just wanted to let you know that I... think that it's exceptional. _{[okay. look at him again.]} What you wrote.


_{[ooc; hahahaaa ohgod it's so hard to make annie fawn over anyone. appreciate the canon sacrifices I am making for youuuu ♥]}

[had_not_lived]

You're doing pretty well finding words, in spite of all that.

[mumbled_truth]

I suppose... words about the lack of words, the ineffectiveness of words. Somehow that does seem a fitting description.

[had_not_lived]

Well, I'm glad you decided to share.

[mumbled_truth]

Words were created to be shared, weren't they?

[had_not_lived]

Why else?