You tell someone that you love them. That must mean that you know what love is. Then just go ahead and compose the definitive love song or write the definitive love poem. Maybe that's not possible. Why?
Maybe love is hiding in the closet or under the bed--while you are making love. Maybe love finally grew up enough to leave home. Maybe love is like light, sometimes one thing or sometimes another, depending on the experiment you devise to investigate it.
Maybe love likes to dress up, wear disguises, put on a silly mustache or wear red spike heels with rhinestones on them. Maybe love only glows in the dark, or maybe love is like a tree or a black hole or a riptide.
Or maybe love is the elephant in the room of all of humanity. We can't escape it, but we can only ever hope to understand the pieces we can touch.
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