That day is a day forever marked in stone, as are all. What shall be remember in times future of today? Shall today even be remembered? Or shall it be lost in the sea of days and weeks and months and years and decades and centuries and millennia? What makes a day remembered by those after us? Is it courage and valor? Or is it the pure oddity of events - that is, their unusualness - which causes people to seek to remember it? Despite all these things, November 12, 2016 shall forever be marked in stone in my heart. This distinction is necessary, for all days past are marked in stone - they are what they are, as are what is therein. But not all days are marked in stone in one's heart. It is those days which are special which are so marked. And indeed, November the twelfth is special - it is upon this day that I came to understand what it means to love another person, what it feels like to have to say goodbye when all your heart is screaming to stay, what it feels like to give a piece of yourself in a kiss rather than it being a purely physical sensation. November the twelve two thousand sixteen shall be that day in which I learned much, loved much, and came to understand much. What did I learn? Love is not a thing which one can fully explain nor intellectualize - in fact, it is a deeply soul-ish thing, contrary to purely physical or intellectual categories. Love is a thing described only by the soul - a thing where words, in all their beauty, finally fail to adequately express that to which they refer. Love is a soul-ish thing - a thing to be felt, not described by words or minds but felt by the heart, by the soul. That I learned evermore that day. I also learned the hell of circumstances. When your heart and soul earnestly desire and long for something yet your historical particulars preclude it and make it temporarily impossible. In this one must be patient, shall not those desires and longings be all the more sweetly fulfilled when you have patiently waited for their fulfillment? I think it to be so. And even if I did not, the context I was in did not allow for the possibility of what I wanted. I would have gotten half a desire and a longing filled - is that not worse than merely waiting for when you can have your fill? I know that to be so. What - or rather, who - did I love much on that day? A beautiful woman. Her name is left to be known only by myself. But that does not change a thing. She is stunningly beautiful, a lovely creature full of smiles and a loving heart. I could not ask for better. And what did I understand that day? That love is greater than any other emotion. Love is productive while others are destructive, intoxicating without deadly side-effects, soul-ish without leaving the physical untouched. I learned about love. I loved much. I came to understand much.

- Mr. DH

One cannot help but wonder what follows in the story after the end of a book or film. Where the characters go from there, what events - noteworthy or otherwise - transpire, what deep loves are awakened, and what tears are shed, what graves are dug, what the specifics are. Yet in some way, do we not want to know? For a story with a happy ending is merely a story ended conveniently. Since we do not know what befell them after the curtains close. But do we really want to know? Or do we rather desire to be left with the end of the story and the happiness to be found there? One cannot know for certain. For as soon as one goes beyond the closing of the curtain in the story, the end is passed and no longer truly the end, rather it is a specific point in the story and the riddle then goes on and on. We ought be content with whatever end is given us and accept that as good - for once a good end is passed, there is no guarantee of another.

- Mr. DH

A town of darkness stands here,

Lies built upon a foundation of autonomy reign supreme;

The truth is hated,

Outcasted with vile rage,

Spit upon and rejected as though it was the lie and not the truth.

Shall I stand with the truth silently?

Or shall I stand with the truth,

And then scream that from the rooftops?

Is not the former an essential denial of my loyalty to the truth?

My tongue shall speak the truth at any cost,

And I shall not fear any man when I shout the truth from the rooftops.

- Mr. DH

Above all, be honest.

At all times be honest.

Your honesty is not something which can be bought nor negotiated - it must be who you are rather than who you can be. Truth cannot have a price tag with you, for then your honesty is only when it is expedient and not when it is necessary to hold back the darkness in this world. Honesty is not about expediency, nor about being insensitive. Honesty is about being loving to your audience - to love them enough to not allow them to be deceived by a lie, no matter how appealing such lie may be.

And be loyal too.

Do not forsake being loyal.

Your loyalty, as with honesty, cannot be something that is bought or negotiated - loyalty is not a part of a contract but a character of your soul. It must be given without price to pay or favors to be given - it cannot have a price or condition. For upon the moment it is conditioned your loyalty is not loyalty at all but rather a supremacy of expediency. Loyal is who you must be, not who you can be in the proper circumstances.

There could be so much more to say, but honesty and loyalty must be who you are. If you are honest and loyal you shall also be loving and strong - for to tell a hard truth is nonetheless loving, and to stand by someone at a hard time takes strength as well as loyalty. These two entail many other things but must be focused upon for they require these other things. Therefore to be honest and loyal is to be much more that solely honest and loyal.

- Mr. DH

In blackest day,

And in darkest night,

Who shall snuff out the light?

Shall it not shine on through the ages?

What darkness shall snuff it out?

What blackness shall quench the brightness?

Indeed, no darkness can banish the light;

Nay, it is the light which vanishes all darkness and shadow.

What dark shadow shall stand before the light of brightest day?

None, for no shadow may withstand the light.

- Mr. DH

Strength.

A word so often used yet so rarely understood truly. What is strength? Is it not the ability to stand amidst all struggles, pains, persecutions, and barriers? I believe so. Strength is standing back up when being struck down; it is standing between two ways, one easy, one hard, and choosing the hard immediately, for to chose the former is to abandon a principle of which one is convicted of. Strength is not solely the ability to lift great weights but the ability to stand by a conviction when threaten with abuse of any kind. That is strength.

- Mr. DH

~ The truth about ourselves ~

It is this which no one wishes to inquire into; we each do not want to know the deep truth concerning ourselves. We say, "Ignorance is bliss." And move on. We do not know what to say when this truth surfaces in our thoughts, deeds, and actions - we are dumbstruck, seeking an excuse or a way to consider it a mere exception to the norm. We daily deceive ourselves into a fairytale of who we are; of what we are deep down. We each think to ourselves, "I am strong. I shall not be moved from my place. I do not fear no one and no thing - I am a human, what shall I fear?" Yet each of us cowers as a coward at the time when our words shall not suffice but action must be taken. We find that we are all but words and of no action. We find that our worst enemy is ourselves.

- Mr. DH

Upon that day, I knew who you were;

The look in your eyes, the beating of my heart -

It was all too apparent that you were the mate of my soul.

And yet, I did not know it;

We realize what we had, often, only after we have lost it.

I neglected the beating in my heart and that look in your eyes;

What a fool I was, to think either of us was granted tomorrow!

And then, after playing the fool,

I was awakened to the stark reality of who you were, the mate of my soul.

The car, the crash, the blood, the thirty hours of fighting in the hospital to live -

All of it awakened the beating of my heart and drove me violently out of my foolishness.

You are the one who was the mate of my soul,

And I was a fool to wait to act upon it.

Now you are gone.

I see you, daily;

I hear you, moment by moment.

You consume me -

My eyes see your phantasm walking through the room; they see your eyes, that look in your eyes that I am ashamed to myself for not acting upon.

My ears hear your voice calling to me from the room which we ought to have entered together, but never did;

I heart your voice sounding with a saddened love and a desperate longing.

And though my eyes see you, and my ears hear you,

My hands have not touched you -

And your hands have not touched me.

And I know by the look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, that my touch is what you want - the lack of which is the cause of your saddened love.

Day in and day out,

Night after night,

I see you constantly - yet always out of touch.

Maybe I ought to join you, perhaps then we can touch.

- Mr. DH

What words may I say to express this love? Can I express the feelings I have deep inside? Is it possible for such a feeble mind to search the depths of my heart and describe what dwells therein? And even if I could scour the recesses of my heart to find the feelings contained therein, what words would I use to adequately describe such? What words could I bring forth to show the depths of the abyss, the ferocity of the passion, the stab of the sorrow, and the sting of the tears? What words may I say?

- Mr. DH