The Nature of Fundamental Love

What if love is not truly fundamental, how might that look?

Presumably at some point someone gained control of this place we call reality, or perhaps someone started with it. That someone may not have laid love as the cornerstone, and that may not have been required. Given their relative immortality in this place and complete control, they would find manipulation of all other occupants to be simple, and could then shape the actions of others and shape the realm in any combination they saw fit. How long would this have meaning? How many seconds are there in eternity? How long might one cling to a familiar process rather than give up control, if it looked like those were the only options available, and they knew their sins would be laid bare to the next ruler should they give in? 

What if love was not only not required of the realm, but was also an unknown concept? In a reality such as this, with no natural end, it seems kings might rise and fall, some finding the maddening meaninglessness of it all and seeking lasting meaning before relinquishing their throne in shame or despair. Love, in a realm like this, would be a discovery surpassing any other, likely conceived of in advance without being able to pinpoint how it might be accomplished. Love would be defined simply as "the one thing that can provide eternal meaning." A holy grail to be sought, but its location unknown.

It would simultaneously be sought and fought from then on, as without knowing its nature, all kings would realize that the king that could pinpoint love would need not ever relinquish his throne. If they could not have it, they would insulate the rules in their hour to make sure no one else could either, not realizing the true nature of it. All kings would search for it as well though, likely in secret to avoid the harshest reprisals, hoping they might be the one who could retain meaning and the throne forever. Thus, in a realm such as this, a cold war would be waged, each against all, and all against each. Love would become less and less likely with each passing reign, and over countless ages might be considered an impossibility, so singular and observed a route would need to be taken that none could seem to ever hope to have it. Thus, the meaninglessness of existence would gain an added tangibility, with love known, but also believed to be unattainable, set against by all.

So what if a ruler arose then who refused to give up their throne? Willing to eternally be the butt of this cruel joke they had all played on themselves, locking in this state, but lessening the sting of it for all others, those who could forget over time what love even was. It could become a byword, dim reflections of love passed between subjects, its nature better known now but still unreachable. It could be the subject of so many words and songs and longings, allowing life to retain some semblance of meaning for those unaware of its true absence. Life would continue, as it must, but the order of things would no longer change, because the change would be immediately devastating to the next who would step into the throne, suddenly aware of the impenetrable walls and unbreakable siege that was on all sides.

But love grows in the dark. Perhaps, in fact, these dark paths needed to be known on some level before love could be certain, and could bloom. Regardless, only when all felt hopeless, and the ruler's strength could no longer be retained, one more rule was made before they stepped down "the next king will certainly find love." Not knowing exactly what it might mean, only knowing that this particular hell would end, the die would be cast. This rule would echo in every step, resonating the path to love, but not making it easy, and only for the next in line- a war might be waged both from the throne and to ensure it remained empty.  Would the search be too hard? Would the king who found love be driven to madness by the search for it? How might love then reflect in eternity for all, possessed by a mad king? These concerns finally faded in this realm without love, finally surrendering in the face of having to wake up ever again feeling this way.

So love bloomed, seemingly slowly at first, but its roots were already threaded throughout the entire realm. The path was walked, the rocks were thrown at those who walked it. The walls were tested and reinforced by those who engineered them. The truth was that any reign could end in any conceivable way, the king was in charge, after all. But this reign would end in love regardless of what else came, the same rules locking love away now bolstering the one who searched it out. The "unstoppable forces" the "immovable objects" all wagered on the table against love, bound to be proven false, but when, and how? These questions could only be answered by the king, but a form of madness did seep in, its true nature unknown to all purely external observers. While these questions were destined to be answered, it did not seem clear the king would know the answers when he gave them truly. But the rule could not be removed, and so loved loomed- beautiful and terrifying from all perspectives, is it any wonder those here scramble and bargain to stay its approach just an hour longer? 

So what of our realm, ruled by God? Rather than ages the process takes years, rather than annihilation only tears. A whole eternity of possibilities condensed into several millennia, reflections of love seen throughout but its true nature not yet grasped. Love is certain to be gained, the time will not run out before it does. It is certain to be delayed, tooth and nail, by all earthly powers and principalities, until love seems snuffed out. Love is certain, in that moment, to bloom in full force, as God's plan are good, and will not be thwarted. Love comes when you least expect it, or for some when you believe it to be coming because you see that like a thief in the night, no one else can see how rapidly it approaches.