Scientifically, sickly getting blasts of atheism in an empty city, a place of nothing, a place of ism-ness with the closure of chapel doors, the removal of holiness, the distraught of not having a love for the divine, a puff of the disappearance of a mystical smoke-filled cloud, a sunset without colors, a rainbow of light as nothing more than a pot of gold containing no coins.
A day for a valentine that is not red, a color that instead hollers the colorlessness of a heart that does not pump, a heckle of a scary Halloween so we learn to wean, a day that means nothing except what someone else says it means.
A holiday that is not a holy day, a day that follows the sun instead of the moon, not following a new moon but instead a full moon like a wolf, a man walking on the moon but only once in a blue moon, and that is the end, that is all there is.
A yellow harvest moon without a harvest, an empty dining room table of an empty-nester cooking for two instead of for you.
A song that no one sings. A song beating on a drum as a heartbeat, that is your heartbeat, a heartbeat so that you can feel love, to love to ask a question, questioning love itself. Love not being a legal right without marriage, love being everything but with no one.
Not to love, not to feel. Not to feel love. Feeling the love that is missing as a waterfall overflowing, no daily requirement of vitamins in your foods, having lunch without her, being in love with no one at every bite, eating heartless tasteless foods.
Being the source and creator of your own love as prepared for you on your own plate, loving being forthcoming creatively and unconditionally, to love everyone, everywhere, on your own island, in a big city, in the absence of redness, in the presence of all colors, with a beating heart that beats every color.
Riding a horse of a different color in The Land Of Oz and following a carrot on a horse's nose, being in love as a Valentine that is not the color red.
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