"Patriotism is a kind of religion; it is the egg from which wars are hatched." ~ Guy de Maupassant
Falling in Love...Again
Once you do, you can never go back to the past.
I liken it best to finally having been freed from a domineering shrew, and discovering the sweet intoxication of loving a woman to whom you wish to give your all, and who likewise, has an intensity and burning passion to give you all her treasures.
Once upon a time, she was the handmaiden of all. She was worshipped by all, and men far and wide lavished their affection upon this woman. She never wavered, and she freely loved back with an intensity that only grew with each new day. Being in her presence was like breathing fresh air, like having all the hopes and dreams of life placed at your doorstep--yours for the taking. Men spoke of her as if she were an ancient Goddess of ultimate beauty, and in truth, she was.
No one else could ever match her charms or favors. To those blessed to know her, life took on a new and wonderful meaning. There was nothing anyone would not do for her, and she stood naked and unashamed before all, and yet none felt any shame or embarrassment when gazing upon her wonderful form. The famous Venus d' Milo or Helen of Troy were but mere shadows by comparison.
Yet, as there are men who are cads--adulterers of all that is sacrosanct in a relationship, so there arose the unfaithful, who claimed the Lady's treasure as their own when it suited them, but who began secretly abusing her. She resisted, proud Lady that she is, but eventually, she was almost overcome entirely. Her beauty was no longer the object of desire, her plaintive plea for attention to those who once loved her, fell upon deaf ears. She was virtually put away, like those in previous ages who were involuntarily placed in a nunnery. She began fading from memories as the harlots with their lewd proposals lacking any substance or promise, drew the attention of all. Most did not bother to gaze upon her lovely features anymore. They simply forgot about the most beautiful woman of all.
Most, but not all. Some remembered. Others later discovered her incredible beauty, and were amazed and taken aback that such a woman could have been forgotten. They fell in love with her as had happened many years ago, and they cannot stop themselves from speaking of her and gazing upon her features. As any man in love, they could see nothing but perfection, except, she really is perfection. The few now enjoy her treasures, despite the difficulty of navigating through the trolling harlots on every street corner of life. Those who love her, see no woman but her now. They are in love for good. To know her is to love her.
The Lady's name?