A stoppage of time.

Oh, I love to think. That, in itself, is a form of love. So many, many ways to love. I can make love to almost anything. Maybe everything. I have become a lover. Of life. The very fact that I can consciously conceive of love -- that is a miracle. A blessing. I have chosen to live the rest of my life defining love. Actually, living love. I ultimately want every act that I do to be an act of love. Pure love. Because that is what brings me pleasure. Maybe pleasure and love are one and the same. Words that I associate with love are gentle and tender and soothing. Love is a brook flowing through a forest primeval. Or a drifting of the human spirit above all of creation. Or a stoppage of time that makes one feel foreverness. --Jim Broede