I read this today: “To love is to take one side of the argument and hold it fast unto death. To land on one side with both feet.” I had the choice, to love you, to not. To allow you to love me. To not. I chose to love, and be loved, in the strange manner of this place, a place of high canyon walls and deep, narrow flow. So I must plant both feet and have it, even if my feet are in the fire and the current returns me to the vast and lonely sea.