the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love
innocence. once it is lost to knowing is it possible to recuperate what was once unknown? is it possible to glow and love again as innocently if youth is no longer an ally, but a foe? is it tenable that the woe of lost love can be overcome, left to some murky distant past, even though one knows that its pangs will likely outlast everything? can one hope while living a life surely as ephemeral as wine goes sour?
yes, even during our darkest hour one can hope. in our dreams we do. and when we sleep we dream, and everyone must sleep. and sometimes we are lucky, so that when we awake it may seem that we have not awoken if we find ourselves hoping for love. for sleep serves more than a corporally rejuvenating purpose, because it also allows us to forget. to let life lived and defiled by disappointment be reconciled by the passing of a few hours when we lie closest to death, in turn letting us whet our yearning for new love, even if the pain of the old remains faint in the wake of the anew. so, yes, hope has the power to renew love, even if inevitably it proves less than everlasting.
the art of living the art of love