What does it mean to be a human being? Somewhere in the thought of Existentialism, it means that a man must have the capacity to be aware of himself; that he is a human being and a living existence. Self-awareness, through which he knows he is a unique individual that currently exists in this world.

Before, this belief led me to think a lot about my beloved. If she is a human, then why does she have this unknown ability to move me and mold me in such graceful and caressing way—this feeling that was almost mystical? It was beyond the comprehension of my human mind and experiences. I thought: "It must be the work of the divine".

Love: the visible and indivisible; the explainable and unexplainable. Love as mortal and immortal, earthly and divine: humanity and beauty. In many ways, it deeply parallels to human life. A life that is the same as love.

If love is eternal and divine, and life is the same as love, then the beings who think, feel, experience, and live this same life must also be, at some degree, eternal. That to even experience it in the first place, there must be some of him that connects, communicates, or vibrates of the eternal. That when he experienced this divine occurrence, he cannot fully rationalize it. Therefore, man must be eternal, and if it is the case that a man is not fully eternal: mortal and limited, then there must be some of him—as a being, a fragment or even potentiality, for which he is eternal.

If I can perceive her through my human senses, or even describe her living existence, then she must be in this world as I am. If Anaxagoras' Principle of Predominance was right that "there is no smallest among the small and no largest among the large, but always something still smaller and something still larger", then I can conclude that it was true and possible that I can see and perceive her existence.

If this is the case, then this feeling of the divine must be true. Even if the truth is a process, the fact that this feeling existed in the first place and continued to exist, it only confirms that it truly existed.

All I am saying is, love—my beloved, you are divine. This feeling, which permeates me, is our love. Our love of which embodies your human and divine being, and my human and—desperately; day and night, as this human existence passes through time, hoping of my divine being. This is the feeling that correlates with my interpretation of a pseudo-Aristophanes' origin of love.

I am a lover of your being and a mystic of your divinity. I can see it because it is obvious; I can feel it because it evokes obviousness.