Does your insatiable appetite to capture her, rage through you from passions you created or compulsions given to you? Either way, you don’t feel in control. Not when she walks by. Not when the graceful sway of her hips fade into this hypnotizing pendulum that begins to melt your mind as logic, reasoning, and discipline crack and crumble. A most entrancing presence that beckons men doomed with desire, as a single delicate finger waves them towards their demise or delight, it does not matter. You cannot help but follow nonetheless. What a frightening wave of euphoric consummation, covetous in it’s nature, spellbound in it’s technique, an overwhelming overture to a dance embedded in the male fate, he finds himself effortlessly acquiescing to. She defies all principle a man could hold himself to, as her eyebrow slightly raises and the side of her lips curl, single-handedly overthrowing anything else he could give his attention to. The spotlight shifts. She sets the stage. He’s unbearably locked in. An exceptionally rare force in nature, sewing the link between the quickening of a man’s heartbeat and the arrival of the feminine form carrying both the potential of a heavenly haven he may only recognize as paradise. Or the most catastrophic disaster leaving him writhing in hellish agony to heights he’s never fathomed before. Such stark duality hovering in the air within the composition of her alliance or nemesis in the endeavors of man. A penetrating shot aimed at the male heart, a bullet he would stand for, as he accepts the excruciating truth he has to have her. Destined for suffering without her, desperate for eternity with her. This connection that sparks with even the faintest of glances, the lightest accidental shoulder grazes, the most innocent glimpses across the street are enough to fervidly fan fires so furious that would engulf whole nations. Love and War. What manner of beast, foe, enemy, obstacle, empire, dimension, would a man not defy just to bring down the wall between him and his woman? Just to see her there, glimmering, the back of her hand stressfully adorning her forehead, her brows furrowed in distress, in dire need of her champion to rise to the occasion. It is that light, it is this sight, that can pull a man from the dark depths of depravity and decadence these forces of sin and vice can drag him into. This is a love that swirls in the souls of all men, who dare to seek their beloved bride-to-be. Every step towards her, is another step closer to enveloping himself in a world of ecstatic euphoria, an alternate plane of existence where nothing is needed but the soft touch of she who leads him ever higher. A man alone is limited by what he perceives he is capable of. A man with the right woman is given the vision of how much more he could be. All in the name of commemorating every day he would carry her to and from her heart’s content, and every night he would escort her deeply into. The possibility of an even greater incentive to evolve a man into his supreme form is feasible. However, to have a motive he would choose of his own accord to spur these efforts is an entirely different matter. A pristinely honed blade, double-edged, as likely to cut himself to pieces than the barriers he would triumphantly slice to continue making those leaps and bounds necessary to persuade her mind, this ring belongs on no other. A man with profound pain in his eyes once told me “I don’t think that’s how it works. You know how they say, you go get the money, the car, the power, and then you’ll get the woman? I think that’s backwards. I think when she shows up, however she does, is the moment you find your reason to go and get everything you need from this world.” We both sat in quiet contemplation for some time sipping our spirits after he dropped that mic. It’s not surprising one would find despair with this perspective. If he’s right, then are all men who have yet to run into their fated partner-in-crime going to be fastened and buckled down for an indefinite period of stagnant, dull, and monotonous routine in their daily lives? Just wandering souls slowly withering away, being ground into dust by the aimless and purposeless existence all due to the absence of her presence? There are men who sneer and scoff at this notion. There does exist the self-made, successful, and suave gentleman who out of pure spite or spunk, forged meaning back into his own life, when no woman around him near and far could be bothered to. This is the idea the love you have for her, cannot override the love you have for yourself. For the love of a woman is fleeting. It is not distrust. It is not paranoia. It is not pessimism. It is properly securing your throne. It is upholding the single most paramount priority all men are capable of. That, is your peace of mind. In this way, a man must be ferociously protective. Women, in all their glory, beauty, and danger cannot be given ground above this law. She must add. She must supplement. Not deteriorate. Not detract. I truly believe, that is a man and woman meant to be together. Where she both provides and adds to his peace of mind, which allows him the clarity of driving every aspect of his own ability and effort towards the pinnacle of his potential. When a duo of this magnitude aligns themselves with one another, limit itself vanishes into oblivion. A symbiotic bond begins to take hold, where all the love and peace a woman would pour into her man, is transformed from fuel to fortune. It just can’t be underestimated. When a woman looks into a man’s eyes and whispers from the bottom of her heart, “I’m with you.” That’s when he’ll turn around and conquer the world. Maybe you have one, maybe you don’t. If you do, you have your reason to self-improve. If you don’t, you have that reason all the same. In this way, she is the most valuable incentive for masculine development, across all time. You’re reading KumoKingTV. Thank you, and catch you soon.