Embroiled

Love is a left-brain/right-brain thing--for instance:

Does it belong, in its most beautiful and spiritual successes, to us all?
Are its boundaries merely obtuse and arbitrary? Does love always win because love is the goal? Are jealousies and pangs simply counter-intuitive to love's beautiful seamless course?

Or does love belong?

Is it a thing to be fought for, tooth and nail, until it's dragged--unharmed--from a scorched and bloody battlefield? Are the scars and broken bones, the gallows humor of "It almost didn't work out after I got drunk and made out with so-and-so.." the things that make it stronger? Can you simply double and redouble your assault against a country already embroiled in battle in order to turn the tide in your favor?

Must I screw on that plumed helmet, hoist my sword, and go drag Helen back by the hair? (I hear she's into that)

Whatever the case, it'll take quite the Eurydice before I enter the underworld.

Dak