Normally, I wouldn't bore you with yet another poem after that rather lengthy post, but I couldn't resist, and I'm sure you'll see why (not because I'm such a fabulous artist, but rather because the subject matter is quite dear to the hearts of most single BYU females, and most of my friends fit that category).
To Live
I do not know what it is that supersedes rational thought
when the mind meddles in matters of the heart,
why we conjure up images of charming princes and perfect gentlemen
to give us their hearts, neatly wrapped, in a shower of flattering words.
It is an acute torture of both mind and heart
when out of these sweet dreams we are confronted
with the sticky remnants of the ice cream tub and the blur of the television.
This is the pathetic state of impotence to which we drive ourselves.
But stop. This is not love; this is not even life.
To live is to forget what you long for,
to drink in the joy of the mundane and to glory in the unremarkable
adventures that wait for you in each minute of each hour of your life.
There are no charming princes on gleaming white horses. There are only
remarkable people who live remarkable lives under unremarkable circumstances.
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