Thursday, March 22, 2007

You and Me. The Rose.


Some say love it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
And you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love
In the spring
Becomes the rose

Beneath us is a rose. A love so precious, so hidden, so sacred.

Everybody has the capacity to love. Love is an innate gift from above.
When we learn to care so deeply about a person, we tend to ask ourselves:
where does all this love come from? And so we reach to a realization that
this love must come from something supreme, something beyond ourselves.
When we love, we invoke the "thing" that is beyond our human selves.
This is precisely why when we love, we feel no limits. We are greater
than the usual self we know. Sometimes, we don't even know ourselves
anymore. Or the extent that we can be our selves.

When it dawns upon us that it probably took us a long time to realize
that we actually love, even if it is innate, it only shows that there
has been no impetus for us to do so. When a 'significant other' arrives,
it awakens the budding rose within us. Is it our prerogative to make the
rose bloom or not? I say that the rose will bloom whether you like it
or not. Because you will become a better person when you love. You become
more human. Man's capacity to love is non-questionable just as faith---the
state of believing in something you cannot prove to be true.

The reason why we interpret love in many different ways is simple---
it arrives to us as a surprise. Things will creep out of our mouth.
Things will contaminate our minds. Things shine in our eyes.
We define it in the context that it arrives to us. That is why we
can connect it even to the most absurd things. From peeing to mucus
to lice to a cake. Love is a mystery.

I guess love can never be thoroughly explained...the same way that
faith will ever be defined. All I know is that when I love, the best
in me comes out.

And so I love. Therefore, I twinkle.

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