Hey people, welcome to Midnight Musings, and welcome to my world; an online space where I expect the smallest of words to cause the greatest of shifts. Today I’m making a somewhat quick review of a piece I stumbled upon on Neil Gaiman’s blog and It’s a poetic piece that was penned, according to the writer, for a, then, newly wedded couple sometime last year. And just like every other finely brewed poetic mix of words, it’s evergreen, or at least it will be to me, and as such, I would like to share.

 Neil here portrays with utmost candor what I consider the true narrative of the four-letter word that never ceases to enrapture our minds with endless tales of its existence; love.  How often are we drawn to an idea about this four-letter word that mostly proves false? The Idea that we know just about everything there is to know about it. The love doctors (or whatever it is these love experts call themselves) would often assume an overly confident perspective on all things love. But do we ever truly know enough? Is it possible to say we know enough? I think Neil answers these questions with a single verse here :

       “Because nobody else's love, nobody else's marriage, is like yours,

       and it's a road you can only learn by walking it,

 a dance you cannot be taught,

         a song that did not exist before you began, together, to sing.”

…culled from the piece

I reckon only a few statements could be made truer of the four-letter word. But then again it’s just Neil and maybe me, and just maybe a host of other persons who would agree. Knowledge and ideas are hardly ever wholistic, a quote I’m always mindful of. So I’ll leave you to the poetic delivery served cold but with love from the genius of Neil. And while you ponder on it, be sure to give an objective view to the limits of what you think you know about this four-letter word.

“This is everything I have to tell you about love: nothing.

 This is everything I've learned about marriage: nothing.

 Only that the world out there is complicated,

 and there are beasts in the night, and delight and pain,

 and the only thing that makes it okay, sometimes,

is to reach out a hand in the darkness and find another hand to squeeze,

and not to be alone.

It's not the kisses, or never just the kisses: it's what they mean.

Somebody's got your back.

Somebody knows your worst self and somehow doesn't want to rescue you

or send for the army to rescue them.

It's not two broken halves becoming one.

It's the light from a distant lighthouse bringing you both safely home

because home is wherever you are both together.

So this is everything I have to tell you about love and marriage: nothing,

like a book without pages or a forest without trees.

Because there are things you cannot know before you experience them.

Because no study can prepare you for the joys or the trials.

Because nobody else's love, nobody else's marriage, is like yours,

and it's a road you can only learn by walking it,

a dance you cannot be taught,

a song that did not exist before you began, together, to sing.

And because in the darkness you will reach out a hand,

not knowing for certain if someone else is even there.

And your hands will meet,

and then neither of you will ever need to be alone again.

 And that's all I know about love.”

                                                                                                                                            Neil Gaiman