n.i.m.b.u.s.

the collision OR a thing called 'love'

there is no other word in the english language with as many meaning as this word. in terms of concrete definitions i'm sure there are much more ubiquitous syllables. however, no word can ever hope to overshadow the great meaning and meaninglessness, the unfathomable vault of emotion and destruction, the sheer calamity and catastrophe brought on by 'love'.

some loves burn out as quickly as they appear, with a passion as bright as a neutron star on overdrive. a candle covered in gunpowder, lit from both ends and in between, exploding into a magnificent phoenix of destruction and awe.

some are slow and patient: stone castles built upon firm foundations. like a dim lantern, their virtue is not their incandescence but their longevity.

and some, are neither one nor the other.

we have here, a prime example:

two particles waltz within the wiry innards of a particle collider.
sustaining only glancing blows.
they are together. if only for a short-lived moment.
then isolation returns. a long and lonely expanse of solitude rushes past,
while a deadly velocity is attained.

inevitably, the particles meet once more. every encounter leaving them longing for more.

again and again,
they spin through tunnels of darkness,
in a twisted ritual of desperate pirouettes,
grazing past their partner for only microsecond.
faster and faster,
swirling emotions caught between waves of electromagnetism,
strobe light flashes of arcing electricity,
a dial is turned and the circuits switch,
the slightest adjustment in trajectories,

-the collision occurs.

an unstoppable force meets an immovable object and crimson-cherry fireworks burst into vibrancy over a pitch-black ocean of tar by the pier; the ferris wheel's lights ricochet from the waves, almost outshining the melting moon's face that turned into ash while you were blinking; electric sparks become erratic snakes of cocaine snow, scattering down a glistening wet and hissing rod - white, red, purple, melting. lightning pounds against the onyx water, colliding with a wall of swirling foam from which a million flying anglerfish erupt, their luminescent lures becoming stars that line the shattered sky. a deer mounts another on the conveyor way within a slaughterhouse. warm raindrops pelt the verdant leaves of the rainforest mere seconds before a bulldozer tears apart a million years of nature's progress. two scrawny and malnourished teens embrace each other in the decrepit den of a half-destroyed concrete building. our scene is lit by a dim and turbid orange light fluttering through the exposed reinforcement grills of the building; barbed wire lining a distant rusty fence that's planted into the blood-stained soil of their war-torn country. a growling wolfmother stands snarling between a plaid-shirted hunter and her pups, the effervescent aurora above, reflected in her black and fearless eyes; two spinning spiral galaxies collide and meld into one great sombrero, scattering countless systems like moles of dust into the empty void, being torn apart by the ferocity of cosmic forces ; a rose unfurls at timelapse speed; an electron rushes off in search of their partner, leaving only frozen tracelines; two green beetles mate.

love.

this love is more volatile than any substance you can and can't bottle. this love mercilessly bends and breaks our perceptions and preconceptions. it tears us down to rubble and builds us up anew, before sending us toppling down again and again. it can last for a lifetime and sometimes more. the subjects in question, sometimes more or less than two, will ride through the entire spectrum of emotions twice over in a matter of seconds, on a daily basis, as though it is nothing. they will hate each other, they will love each other, they will come apart and come together once more, connected by an invisible elastic band that binds them even after death. they may spend half a lifetime apart before reuniting, willed by the red strands of love and the purple braids of stubborn serendipity.

these subjects may not display any outward signs of love, and to many an onlooker they may appear to be worse than indifferent towards each other. however, they will both know, on some level of consciousness, that they were made for each other. theirs is a love unique and special, one of a kind. exploring it, probing it, discovering and rediscovering it once more - there's a life's work.

such is a 'love' that lasts more than a lifetime. such is life's great triumph over the cruel and heartless universe which will only ever be a stage, and never an actor in truth; such is a triumph over death.

like a blind man groping at eternally unfamiliar surroundings or an audacious writer unaccustomed to the typewriter's hidden guillotine and how it butchers their fantastic visions - our words and conventions will never come close to expressing these things which we feel within the core of our being.

but we do not need any words.

deep down, inside all things that live and die, lies the complete and wordless understanding of this peculiar phenomenon.

so be free, explore the unexplored, take in a great big breath of air (or whatever it is you breathe), and love. love yourself, love the world, love it all. love.