In writing my critical essay on Stephen Crane’s poem, “A Man Said to the Universe,” I was inspired to compose the following:


An open letter to Love: April 21, 2008

Love,
Are you the meaning of life? If I asked the universe to help me find you, what would her answer be? You puzzle me . . . muzzle me . . . and yet I still return. Why? Because are you not the nature of existence?
When I think of you, I hear every word you’ve ever spoken in one incomprehensible sentence—the sentence of death? Why? I see you as the scar on my soul, your image seared to the core of my being . . . my existence. I fear you while seeking your name: Love! Love! I call. Do you answer? I exist! I am here! Do you feel obligated to me?
You’ve created in me a cove in which I cannot remain. So many restrictions! Inhibitions! Contradictions! Why?
Love, do you hate me? I must know before I am born; are you the meaning of life?
Skeptically,
a fetus