Is there any love which surpasses the love of a mother for her son or is there a love greater than the love between the priest and his creator and if there is , how could it exist and why does it? . Is it the love of Romeo for Juliet , what more love can be if you can die for it . Romeo and Juliet  had cast down their lives because they would not be together in this world. What more can one ask for, death which is the ultimate end of this world just for the sake of love . " Just for the sake of love" is an understatement when you consider the amount of emotions, hard earned pain , time and happiness invested by its doers , surely undermining and an insult to their love . But is dying together  a greater act of love or bearing pain by living apart and  seeing your better half  with someone else . As far as our limited understanding of this world restricts our beautiful mind on the issues of death , we know one thing for sure that those who die cease to exist in this world. Hence one of the many epitomes of romance fails to bear the pain incurred upon them by the sight of their love, loved by someone else.
                           
                                                                                                                        As we move further on the lines of departing love and living with it . One may have visual pictures from his own life of heartbroken people who live with it throughout their life or a mother who live's virtually after the death of her only son but a question arise are they really sad enough to be the symbol of real love and pain . Love and Pain in most cases are directly proportional , the more you love the more pain you are going to bear hence when we symbolize a mother and son to be the ultimate winner for the love we usually account for the pain she endures during child birth , sleepless nights , the pains in bringing up her child and so on . The final calculation takes account of the emotional drive which takes place when this mother sees the departure of her child from this world , to see all her efforts , each and every step taken to give her pain again  a pain which will never cease to exist unlike her child.

                                                                                      Consolations , some agree rest disagree but they all take it when it is needed. So the wailing mother is given consolation in words and acts which she feeds upon to drive away her pain.
                               
                               But what about a creator not partly like a mother , what about a developer not partly like a lover , what about a creator and developer whose lover is intangible and invisible . Intangible for him and invisible for all . Intangible , imagine the extent of platonic love which exists between them in a world which has limited itself to the sense of touch . Invisible , how he/she looks even the lover doesn't know , impossible one may think for such love to exist .
                                     
                                                The lover , creator , developer with just a blurred picture of his love in his hand moves down the street and you just pass him by. As you pass you realize he is crying but he cant tell you what he has lost as he himself has a blurred picture of his love . Crying , but over what ? Will you console him ? Console over what he himself does not know surely? . Daydreamer , Psychotic , Demented all words synonyms for frantic would be used but no consolations.
                             
                                                   What about a Writer and his Character .

The write creator unlike a mother decides the very existence of his character , his place , time and every minute detail from the very beginning . The writer develops his character unlike a lover from the very start of his character's life . The writer so in love with his character, does not even need to touch his creation to feel more connected unlike the lover whose sense of touch has restricted him going further deep into his lovers soul .

                          The writer , the creator , the developer of his character will he ever see his character clearly ? maybe yes but only in his mind . As the character reaches the paper through the pen held by his hand it starts to change but still the writer knows him . After completion the pages exchange hands , now the eyes set upon his creation are not his own but someone else's . The writer knows the game of perceptions has made his creation stranger to him. Each along with their version of character departs praising him for his creation but the writer knows they only have a hint of his creation and his character will leave them a day not so far . He sees his loved one with someone else and feels it his no more. Praise but no consolation.

                        Now the writer with his another creation but this time he keeps his love safe in his mind . He feels it is too pure for this worldly piece of paper and certainly no eyes should be set upon his creation. So the writer keeps his creation in his mind, no scribbling, no doodling . Alas!! a day will come when the character will leave his mind and him, just leaving a blurred picture behind .
                                   
                                      The writer crying , the world scoffed "The daydreamer" .