Blog for Nameless-Value

novel, essay, poetry, criticism, diary

To Die for Love

I have a feeling until now, I’ve spent all day long for pursuing love, any day.
Eventually, getting pursuit only for love must provide the one doing it either many partings.


Pursuing, or inquiring love means either having craving emotion to encounter love, I needed only those days. It means having bravery to meet love, never losing curiosity to love.


Love is never dying for it nor completing to do fully, is just accepting it day by day, making it accustomed acts for myself, that sort of idea is existing, too!


I also have never died for love in terms of giving up to my life, neither I’ve never declined all habitual routine in getting love.


Although, I’ve never spent my lifetime days only in loving secured life nor peace, and just only accepting love.


I would never have any sort of just only love accepting life, because I’ve held my faith that that kind of life spending seems just pretention I feel to love.


Poetry creation is almost only waiting for a moment words itself comes to me, and creating moments are just for all poets just waiting for it.



Is love a form?
Otherwise, is it act?


Let’s suppose that mission feeling holder must need a form for acting in getting love.


Action is made of mind and action’s smart skill can make feeling and emotion invoked.
However, sinking in only skill, endangers us, either.


Interest to something is love. Addicting to it and exhausted feeling to it is each form of love.
But, its form different from form to compose action.


Form for composing action is showing intention to generally other ones, however, form of love itself is never be compelled by anything. Mind can never tell a lie to mind of myself.


People have so many kinds of love, except parents, different sex ones, friends and pals.


Love to estate of own survival as habitant, love to nation, love to job, love to profession, love to pastime, and hobby, love to friendship, love to dutiful emotion never in terms of legal thing, love to skills and knowhow, love to wisdom, love to moral, love to ethics, love to thought.


Love stinks so realistically, very ideologically, abstractly, and notionally.


Either to attachment to ex-estate’s area in spending life, those days’ own things, love can be invoked.


Those loves make us think those never as being as these days, hence they are all so notional and ideological.


Love I meet, love I make up my mind to past, love my feeling can be switched to another it, love going back to ex-whereabout, love I intend to change, love necessarily returning to mother home.


Ones who die for love, I who die for love, people who can survive in absence or lack of love.
I can do neither do so.


All these items can be arranged in turn, so naturally.


We can never go against its naturality.


There, I see ordinary days for me, and destiny.


Love’s fate, human’s it, my it, love’s daily life, human’s it, my it, love’s it, human’s it, my it.


Fatal destined things, daily life’s time going must be set only with our surviving.


Nothing could be present but love for dying for.


(Mar. 22nd. 2012, tr. To E. Dec. 21st. 2019, written with some addition and changing at Feb. 23rd. 2020)


(Memo: Written in Japanese originally, translated it into English at Dec. 21. 2019)