And so he fell in love.... ah, a strangely multifarious state of existence; to finally be at the horizon of a dream, lucidly floating in a dense fog of one's own desire. Simultaneous sentiments of bliss and disquiet and contentment and yearning permeated the pigmentation of the hours as the heart fought with the mind to sing in harmony. As any moment in its natural form is of unstable and fleeting quintessence, this love was just as volatile and elusive an entity. Now he had it in his hand, not knowing what to make of it, as countless others in the collective history of lovers have in the past.
Does he protect it with all his might, fighting off any intruder, any non-believer, any static, any doubt, any weakness of conviction? It would be a battle not only against the world, but also against himself, he thought. He didn't have the capacity to quantify the value in monies of this treasure he was gifted, but he knew that in the very omission of understanding came the beauty of having something that even the richest men wished for. The absence of logic dictated authenticity. He was in a realm of art.
Does he allow lore and sirens to suggest other jewels of more intense brilliance? He scoffed at his feeble mind for even thinking of such possibilities, but also understood that the imagination is never far from dreamscapes where four-leaf clovers mingle with gold strikes and poppy fields. The normative ease of these thoughts intimated a porous reciprocation of his love, but assuredly and with courage he shook himself of baseless poltergeists and smiled, remembering that this was exactly where he wanted to be.
He fell in love, but no one needed to know. He stood at the frontier of a self-sufficient paradise with no need to do anything but maintain its pure ecosystem. As a secret it became a strength. As a secret it became a future. As a secret, the love became subdermal chainmail that would make him impervious to his own boyish follies; liberation veiled in shapeshifting fabric.
And to think, there is a she that is greater still, greater than all the concepts of love, the wellspring of all questions never to be answered.