gay marrige is WRONG

If there is no argument then let me make my final point. The Native Americans accepted Homosexuality and homosexual relationships carried on as marriage. They might laugh at a man playing the part of a wife as being too lazy to hunt for himself, but it was all good natured, and people were free within their societies to do almost anything if no physical harm could be show by it. When we think of savages we think of heartless, cruel, and vengeful people. Clearly, they were not inclined to stand in the way of love as this would be an exercise in futility and madness. To stand in the way of love, even when that impediment is slight is more than any modern person should accept. To find love is an impossible task. I have come closer than anyone on the planet to pure perfect love and still it eludes me. We are not all the same, and though we pride ourselves on our individuality what we enforce is a cruel homogeneity. We all buy off the rack, but then step outa line and see how fast the thought police show up. I went to an Ani Difranco concert in Traverse City two nights back, and after the concert I went to the bar around the corner with a real good, if jazzy band, and there were two and some times three sets of girls who had been at the concert dancing with each other. And I saw one of those girls who was like a circus girl dancing with her girl friend, and she was beautiful. The way she would move, all sexy and fine, and carve shapes in the air with her hands was wonderfully graceful. I had to go. The impediment to me even saying hello were great, and yet my gaze was drawn to her. From the common perspective, the merely normal girls were simply beautiful, and when they would twirl each other around, or hold their friends close and clutch their butts, I saw it with a pleasure. And there was a man from a table of hetero couples who obviously knew his very pretty girl in an intimate way, and while they were slow dancing he reached right down, across her as s and held his finger all between the sweet spot of her thighs for a longing moment. I could no better paint a scene of my desires than was painted by the love of the dancers and the music. Love is a dangerous game, impossible to win. Look at me and my small person dancing with her friend. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she danced, but in that small bar the distance to her was covered with impediments, and I had to leave; but to see her beauty and not to acknowledge it put me in the debt of a stranger. What would she have thought of this old me, maybe twice her age loving her for her spirit, for the art she drew on the darkness of the dance floor. How many freaks does that girl meet only wanting to bed her to say they did so because they are freaky? I am not freaky unless it is freakish to be able to see beauty, and feel love, and adore the person behind the vision of it. What if that little girl was the love of my life? What if all we had to get over was the appearance of strangeness, of old with young, and large with small. Is it any different with girls with girls, and boys with boys? It is not the greater triumph when people overcome great impediments to love. The tragedy is that society places so many impediments in the way of love while it is becoming ever more loveless. Let me dwell on the bed of love. You know that love makes marriage as much as love makes all life possible and happy. While I address my words to love, remember that love is not a thing, not an object, and not a concept. Love is a person, that person, THE person you desire and are whole with. Who will tell me whom to love? Who will tell me whom to marry. Who will find in me the fidelity to make love work its magic. Who pleads upon the part of love and will you be it's champion? Love is the champion of us all, and our lovers are our souls revealed. Can we deny who we are in the necessity to deny our love? Every lover saves her lover's life. If you would teach my ears to thrill at music that thrills me not then tell me who to love and whom to marry... Dark is the grave path that grinds all hearts to gravel like the dirt they are interred into. Joy is the life found in love and from that joy bounds all strength. If I had a second life it would be to love devoted. I do not recognize this thing called love as real, but I bow before the reality love makes of people. Where is that person not found in love not found stronger and twice their former selves? Love, true love if you be made by love are made smooth and fine and good. What cruel God of hate makes people wait on love till life has passed away? No myth or magic ever returns a taken day, but youth is the life in love. I direct my obsequy at hate, and spell my charms for love, and if chance should let me see her dance no more will never preach impasse, but I will focus my will to over come, and deliver honors due. In the being of the other, the lover is the matter, the beginning of the universe and the purpose of infinity. Will humanity be shrunk to serve a small and heartless god? Love is all- the beginning and the end of all, and it is the making of human kind.