dolorous interludes.

"You will realise 'love' does not sustain you. Also, that the things we do for 'love' is undermined by the things love does to us.", a dear friend told me yesterday.

I do not deny that this would once have been my philosophy and the truest thought of my heart; it is a heart wrenching experience, holding onto this school of thought, yet, it hardens our being and subconsciously, it erects a natural barrier that protects one from pain. Why then have i slowly unveiled myself, leaving myself open and susceptible to unpredictable floods of feelings? While my dear friend subscribes to such a belief, my dear love tells me again and again that "to live is to be vulnerable". It is often so much easier to live with that while knowing for certain that you are IN love, both of you, and assured daily of your common complete affections for each other. in a sense, there is hardly vulnerability in such a situation. however, with Experiences in life that are our only teacher, one can only understand that this plunge is not a shallow one; it is deep, and to fall wholly and freely now, is to possibly feel the strongest and fiercest wound when the glass of love shatters and cuts you on your wrist. Then, ties are broken and pain is seemingly eternal. To put it simply, when that happens, the genre of books we choose to read changes; one would turn to Satre for nauseating pessimism, and to Pessoa for never-ending nights of solitary seeds of loneliness; Fairy tales disappear, and "Ever After"s fade like the distant memory of childhood joy.

All these i recall with great fondness and little pain today. This is so because i am wholly absorbed in the workings of the Loving hand. This gives one strength to believe and room for reminiscence without feeling no longer the acute pain that used to strike a chord in me when i was without the refreshing touch of his love.

So come with me and you shall see the candlelit sunset; the sky that always seemed to be of a morose shade of red is so much richer today, almost the mixture of luscious blueberries and blood red raspberries. Love. It changes not only the expression of my visage, but better yet, it changes with it the natural working hands of nature; my heart is led and felt by the natural coloured landscapes; may it always be of such an untainted, pure, glorious and perfect portrait, and that on this portrait I may live and breathe yet the complete wholesome balance of Love, Love in all of its physical sensations and emotional connections.

In your tears i saw the pristine truth of Love. Quiet affections were as clear as the water-washed windows of your heart; in Love, there needs no voice. All is felt and it arouses in us a heightened sensation of fragrant young pure love; this i feel as if it were the first time i am in love. and you know what? perhaps it is. perhaps i am.

posted by voyeur @ 1/08/2004 06:28:00 PM