•••••[ Please like and re-post only if you really like it and do tell if something doesn't make sense. I hope you'll have a pleasant read. ]•••••
I tramp a perpetual journey of love.
Love… the greatest essence of being. Love, love is an emotion that knows no power, accounts for submission, corrupts your sanity, consumes your feeling, and evokes a fear of losing someone you hold so dearly. It creates joy, dissipates even the mere essence of loneliness, shows you the heaven in the midst of hell. In love, they draw each other like a moth to a flame at night. While one attracts the darkness; the other turns it into the hope and in that way, they conquer. I fell in love and that’s what made the walk worth a while.
Amidst the ride of these pure memories, lies the pain underneath it all. Memories, which are kept in the dark and obscure crevices of mind, sooner or later will resurface and will paralyze your body, your mind. You’ll be deterred by the tight grasp of nostalgia. The brutal force of the universe will determine your quantum leaps that might leave behind the trauma of the unwanted life. A life where you are left alone to dissolve into the oblivion, where you’ll be greeted by silence and tears. The exhilaration, that it might unravel the inadequate and inadvertent wounds, would be lost somewhere in those leaps along with the love you so cherished.
But who says that oblivion is always dreading. There’s always some aftermath where the thought travels with the familiar tune; it sways to the rhythm of your beloved’s heart bringing forth to deliver the purest love to the world. Love can never be the deception of the ‘give and take’ kind of relationship. Love is doing a kindness for someone else, not expecting to receive anything in return. It means to give until your hands are empty because that will help you to convince your heart that the pain it has endured to keep the beloved happy is worth it, that they mean the world to you.
Pain - in the language of love - is another synonym of pleasure. It drifts to see the silhouette of love disappearing into the thin ashes of smoke and still embrace more of it without any protest. One who has never been on the ride of loving someone who doesn’t love you back will never understand the kind of pleasure it gives. The pleasure is a mixture of pain, obsession, jealousy, and anger, nemesis of love.