Love. Home. Lost.

Love is misery, in the long run. It is sacrifice, it is compromise. It is an unrelenting force that drives man to do great things, sometimes terrible, but great. Love is bittersweet agony of defeat against all reason. Do you ever hear me when I cry out? Do you see me as I lie here weeping, clutching the emptiness that surrounds me? We were perfect, once. But all greatness falls. There is anger, from the fall. A stain on good intention. I endlessly wander through existence as I search for a path leading to home. There is no guidance to direct me. Free will. A gift or a curse? I have never been so close to you as I am now, yet still so far. See me as I am. Broken, but not defeated. Pained, but not scorned. Flawed, but still Devine. All I have ever wanted was to come home.