Anticipated hearts. Restless souls. Desperate
times.
Sometimes, a moment that comes as a state of perpetual
bliss. Sometimes, a lifetime worth of meanings disappear. For some, it brings
life to every wrecked corner of the soul. For some, the penetrating spirit of
love only brings light onto the rampaged self. Some find harmony in the
eternity of words, unspoken. Some spend lifetimes under the shade of the past,
seeking an absolution, that never comes. For some, love exists but emotions fade
in time. Some seek love in the echoes of tomorrow. Some discover love in the
entanglements of dark nights. Some interwoven hearts find comfort, some
continue the journey of deep destruction.
Love allows the lover reach the pinnacle of ecstasy;
but the realm of love resides in depths, of which the lover is petrified. Love
doesn’t know complications; they fence the walls of the lover’s heart. Love
takes its course inwards but the silly lover wanders miles in the quest for
answers.
Love ignites every grey corner of the soul.
Deeper the love touches the ocean, wilder the fire, unfathomable the pain. Love
does not need a companion, the lover does. The lover wanders around in the
shambles, exhausted yet reckless. The lover voyages through skies and beyond,
looking for any imprints of love not knowing that even love cannot trace its
own path. Love is a lone traveller, like the wind, it flows where it wants to, how
it wants to, with great ease. No maps are prescribed to love for its pilgrimage
from one soul to another; love is the horizon in itself.
But is it possible to know the being that love
is, without the lover? Just how sunsets and silhouettes coexist, does love find
its muse within the lover?
