Marriage

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
 ~ Pablo Neruda 

I love that poem. I feel the words in my soul. I love all of it, but the close above speaks to me the most. It resonates a wild love, unconfined, not defined, full of power and passion. 

That's the love I believe in. Not the one written out on a piece of paper, authorised by a government official, the roots of the tradition steeped in ownership, religion and control. 

I don't understand the need to let the government authorise something incredible that exists in heart and soul, beyond definition. I don't understand the restriction that only a man and a woman can marry in this country of mine, and so many countries around the world. As if any government can tell you that you can't love who you love. 

And considering my loathing for the tradition, the history, the ownership, the control, the governments stupidity, it is weird that I find myself, at 9:07 on a Saturday night, wishing desperately that I was officially married to the man I already think of as my husband, because then maybe he'd be here with me right now, and not half a world away.