What is this?
This thing called love
Or not a thing, but a feeling
Or not a feeling, an emotion
Or maybe not even an emotion
Perhaps, it is everything
It is the everything that one cannot define
The everything that one can only experience
To truly understand
But then again what do I know
I’ve tried to define love
Only to find
I created it
Out of loneliness
Out of necessity
Out of fear
But that is not love
It is the desire thereof
See, the desire is what blinds us
(The desire to be understood, accepted, held)
Not love itself
For love would never blind
Love is the way of seeing
Into someone’s mind
And then
Deeper
Into someone’s heart
And still deeper
Into someone’s soul
But I really have no clue…
Or is it the idea that blinds us,
The idea of the unknown
You say you want to be “loved”
But what does that mean?
Some are afraid
Some are excited
About the mysterious ocean
That is love
The cowards swim in the estuaries
And accept what they find
Only few dare to explore
To go deep into the abyss
But it this really so?
Could it be that in the cold
Love is the attachment
The warmth, the passion
That makes you know
All is well in the dark
And in the dark
Love is the light
The security, the faith
To move forth
And in the light
Love is the source
The source of….life
But then again what do I know?
We learn that birth is the opposite of death
And it seems
That death is a negative end to life
But perhaps love
Is the positive end
For, I don’t know much
But I know that those who were said to be
Truly
Madly
Deeply
In love
Were those who never returned
And the ones who can’t explain
But always say
It cannot be defined
It must be experienced
I truly believe
Love is quite simple
But the simple things in life
Are often the hardest to understand
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 5:25 AM UTC
Evanescent moments occur
Dwindling
Fading
You become less tangible
When you beckon for me
I cavort to your side
The side of:
Warmth
Innocence
Love
The side where
You read
I listen
only to fall into a serene slumber
Where did you go?
No longer can I doze without being frightened
Where are you when the sun quiets?
Who will save me from the silence?
I cannot run
My laces, uneasy
Could you have tied my strings?
I attempt to but,
I am unable
Helpless and needy
Perhaps,
if we had more time,
I would have faith in my own knots
But only you could untie those twisted painful knots!
Perhaps,
If we had more time,
You could have taught me
Not the art of you
But the art of something permanent!
I hold on to fugacious moments
Only to realize,
they are never held
I hold on to you
Only to realize,
You are no longer there
Senseless
I lay there
- yearning
for a momentary release from my lacing
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC