Those furious affections of earlier times chime ever more faintly, that certainty of burning desire, whether fulfilled or not was the test of living once. Now, having burned out of that fierce fire I still feel, I still am convinced of love as being the measure of us. More protective love now for my children, less burning desire for other minds, other bodies. But still both there, love in its many forms, desire in its single purpose, I am still living, still desiring.
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