The Question of Love
Copyright John S. Nasche, Sept. 29, 1989

And so you have come.
I knew that you would.
You all come to see me in your time, ... to ask the question.
I invite you into my room and give you a cool goblet of wine, and you sit and look at me.
Sometimes you are young, eyes bright with anticipation. Sometimes you are the young maiden, skin flushed with excitement and promised release from desires. Once even the Knight of no colors came to sit, ... strangely silent for one clad in armor.
Yes, ... even the King has sought me out.
And you all sit, leaning forward in the seat that I've provided, … and you all clutch tightly at the goblet of wine in your hand, ... and you all look deeply at me with your eyes, ... and you all speak.
"John, ... do you know of love?"
"Yes".
And you slide closer to the edge of your chair,
“Tell me of Love."
"No, I can not."
But you never accept my answer, … are never satisfied with my reply.
"You can. Tell me of love."
"No. I must not".
"You must tell. I have come for the answer."
"No. I dare not."
"You are a man of courage John, you dare to tell me.
"No. I will not."
"TELL ME!"
I look deep into my heart and into my soul, ... I clench my teeth to keep my voice still, ... but the vision that I see there comes forth.
"Love is paradox."
"Love is giving it away to keep it."
"Love is the loss of all that is dear, to own it forever."
"Love is joy, ... Love is pain."
"One must possess love or die, ... but to give your love away is the only way to have life."
"Love is paradox."
Then you look at me in strangeness, for you do not understand, but you can see in my eyes that I speak the truth, and you are confused.
Sometimes you weep with me. Sometimes you just quietly leave never to return. Sometimes the young maidens are so moved they offer their bodies to lie close beside me in my chamber, such is their desire to be close to the answers that I possess. I must confess, ... sometimes so great is the pain and the loneliness I take brief comfort with them.
But they leave.
All leave.
You too will leave.
Now you are here.
You are sitting close to the edge of the chair.
You are holding a goblet of my sweet red wine.
I see what you wish deep in your eyes.
Come, ... speak. Why have you visited me in this place?
"John, ... tell me of love."
"I can not."
"I must not."
"I dare not."
"I will not."
"No."