<p>Upon reading certain things, upon hearing certain songs, upon seeing certain people, upon smelling certain scents, upon tasting certain foods, upon feeling certain feelings and upon losing myself, it flows, the light, in through the head, out through the heart, washes over all, and, being lost in it, have found myself without.
<em>How poetic.</em>
These are the white things. Cold, bright, burning, white.</p>
<p>Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani.</p>
<p>But the light isn't as it used to be. It was a thing to light up a day, a thing to light up me, filling completely. Now a simple thread flows from head to heart, and the light doesn't stray from the path of least resistance.
<em>Love follows not the law of Ohm</em></p>
<p>Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani.</p>
<p>Light can be many things, but here, now, it means love - all four loves - and it's a strange feeling to have been so full of it for so long, then to suddenly be nearly without.
<em>Full of what? Full of shit? How pathetic, how trite.</em>
Having deified love for several years, it's a shock to my faith to have it disappear, even if it only turns out to be temporary.
<em>Faith? You're faithful? How have you EVER been faithful to love?</em></p>
<p>Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!</p>
<p><em>My god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me...</em</p>
