It is impossible to truly love and keep the soft fragile center of oneself, that part so much like an egg, but not an egg, safe. (Of course, not an egg.) A person only begins with an egg. Once born, this beginning person is meant to be joined. Arriving in a self folded upon a self, a person is a vessel meant to be unfurled and accompanied in fly. One does not place an egg on a feather and expect it to fly. But that is often what we do in love. We stay inside our shells, content with fluff and the proximity of other shells, worry about being broken and forever cease to fly.