I wonder in what space I was born.

What void formed my eyes and earlobes, constructed each pore from tiny specks of burnt out stars grasping for the glory of their brighter days

I am the child of collision. Of random and unending chaos. Of catastrophe and disaster.

I know this because I felt the crashing.

The violent uproar of movement that surges inside of me whenever your name is spoken.

I can feel your violence.

Faster and faster, you swirl around me - gathering bits of gas and dust, trapping fire, ice, comets and planets within this artificial space occupied by only your memory.

Melodrama, anyone?

I'm assuming this is a love poem. Or, more accurately, a lost love poem. Unfortunately, not a very good one. So, don't worry, I'm keeping my day job.

Although the details around this writing are somewhat blurry for me, I know that I probably cried. In fact, I'm sure I did. It really doesn't take much for me. Even if I didn't love him, I cried for the loss. For not having this person, this human in my life anymore. Even if it wasn't true love, it was love ... or a shadow of it anyway.

This is how powerful our instinct is to bond - to belong with someone. Even if only for a moment. Nature has endowed us with this passion for each other - or maybe lust - that seems almost hypnotic. Almost crazed at times.

I know I didn't love the person who I wrote this poem about. Most likely, I was afraid of being alone. Terrified even.

But out there - there are men and women all over the world writing real love poems about other men and women who want nothing more than to share every remaining moment of their lives with each other.

Or maybe they are not writing love poems. Maybe they're cooking breakfast. Or buying curtains for the living room. Investing in mutual funds or opening joint bank accounts.

Or simply trying to get married.

Love is love. As natural as breathing and as normal as the sun rising in the morning.

Love makes you a better person. That's how you know it's real. And true, honest-to-god, straight-off-the-truck love is the best thing that could ever happen to someone. Or to the world.

You can try all you want to stand in its way. You can impose laws and regulation and fines to keep people from loving each other. Governments can refuse to honor it and churches can spend every Sunday condemning it.

But, if it's really love, it doesn't make a difference. You're just postponing the inevitable.

It really doesn't matter what you say. Because you are wrong.

And maybe I'm an eternal optimist here, but I believe that - in the end - love does conquer all.

So, while pondering the whirlwind in San Fransico, keep this in mind:

For centuries upon centuries, it was "unnatural" for a woman to do anything but bear children. It was believed that, if she did any severe mental tasks like thinking - her ovaries would shrivel up. And, even as women marched in protest demanding equal rights, critics claimed that allowing women to vote would completely undo the very fabric of society.

I've been thinking for years and my ovaries are none the worse for it.

And, as for society, don't blame the undoing of its fabric on women and voting, blame it on men and power.

Before you condemn something as "unnatural" and "against family values", maybe you should take a hard look at yourself. Because I think all that hand waving righteous indignation stems from fear.

People who condemn peace keeping, law abiding, psychologically healthy and productive members of society who want to get married because they love each as being "unnatural" ... are usually just afraid of things (and people) that are different than them.

But instead of attempting to understand and accept - they vilify.

So, if that describes you , then shut up, stop being an ignorant jackass and make a beeline for your local psychotherapist to resolve some of your obvious self-esteem, control, and (dare I say) sexuality issues.

And, for Christ's sake, let two people in love get married.

Dammit.

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