the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love
an occasionally perfect existence
There is no permanence to perfection, perfection is fluid, it comes and goes on its own terms.
Bluntly put, this is why there is no assurance of a soul mate for every single one of us. Most modern manifestations of this ancient ideal are rarely real and simply purport romance at its commercial best, the financial test of which is drawn quarterly, and thus is all but temporary and beholden to the whims of the consumer.
Alas, the potential for perfection exists but merely in spurts, for it is naturally inclined to fade, fester, or otherwise expire. This is why most lover's eventually tire of one another, unless they die or end up being the bitter-sweet half of lost love.
It behooves anyone who dares lead a perfect life, or at least one who wants their strife to be fluid, to know when to let go and move on. She who undulates with opportunity and the law that all things change can exchange a dependence on chance for a will that controls circumstance and leads to a better, if not occasionally perfect, existence
the art of living the art of love