To my forever, yes you,
Some days back I started wondering what would be an ideal definition for love. What is that makes people fall in love? How come two strangers, no connection, no history all of a sudden just connect? How is this different from attraction? Is it attraction that makes people fall in love? How can one put all of this in words? How can one distinguish attraction apart from love, and vice versa? How do I outline an answer for these questions? What love is and what love isn’t how do I gauge it? How do I put a range on it? Is my scale of understanding wide enough?
Then I look at you, and all these questions evaporate like water on a hot pedestal. Love is immeasurable, it is uncountable. It cannot be taught, yet it is learnt. It is not an exercise, it is a responsibility. It isn’t planted, it is born. It has no shape, yet it is beautiful. It has no degree, yet it is worshipped. How Rumi describes love is how I feel;
I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain, and soul.
There’s no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.
For someone loving is everything, for someone loving is a beginning. For me, love is ever-changing, it is dynamic, it cannot be, for even a second, static. If your love is static, you don’t love; How can you otherwise evolve? How can you survive? How can you love?
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.
In your presence I don’t want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
seem like rusty mirrors
You breathe; new shapes appear,
and the music of a desire as widespread
as Spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly.
Some of us walking alongside
are lame!
For me, looking at you is love;
I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running towards my life shouting,
What a bargain, let’s buy it.
To express love, this letter can’t do it, even when we meet in person I can’t seem to speak properly.
Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.
When Imam Ali said, “Speak only when your words are more beautiful than the silence”. I realised, why I can’t speak when we meet. Your eyes silently say everything they ever could, I just have to look at them.
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight become this art.
What have you done to me?
I used to be shy.
You made me sing.
I used to refuse things at table.
Now I shout for more wine.
In somber dignity, I used to sit
on my mat and pray.
Now children run through
and make faces at me.
I love you,
Beyond repair.
Some days back I started wondering what would be an ideal definition for love. What is that makes people fall in love? How come two strangers, no connection, no history all of a sudden just connect? How is this different from attraction? Is it attraction that makes people fall in love? How can one put all of this in words? How can one distinguish attraction apart from love, and vice versa? How do I outline an answer for these questions? What love is and what love isn’t how do I gauge it? How do I put a range on it? Is my scale of understanding wide enough?
Then I look at you, and all these questions evaporate like water on a hot pedestal. Love is immeasurable, it is uncountable. It cannot be taught, yet it is learnt. It is not an exercise, it is a responsibility. It isn’t planted, it is born. It has no shape, yet it is beautiful. It has no degree, yet it is worshipped. How Rumi describes love is how I feel;
I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain, and soul.
There’s no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.
For someone loving is everything, for someone loving is a beginning. For me, love is ever-changing, it is dynamic, it cannot be, for even a second, static. If your love is static, you don’t love; How can you otherwise evolve? How can you survive? How can you love?
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.
In your presence I don’t want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
seem like rusty mirrors
You breathe; new shapes appear,
and the music of a desire as widespread
as Spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly.
Some of us walking alongside
are lame!
For me, looking at you is love;
I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running towards my life shouting,
What a bargain, let’s buy it.
To express love, this letter can’t do it, even when we meet in person I can’t seem to speak properly.
Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.
When Imam Ali said, “Speak only when your words are more beautiful than the silence”. I realised, why I can’t speak when we meet. Your eyes silently say everything they ever could, I just have to look at them.
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight become this art.
What have you done to me?
I used to be shy.
You made me sing.
I used to refuse things at table.
Now I shout for more wine.
In somber dignity, I used to sit
on my mat and pray.
Now children run through
and make faces at me.
I love you,
Beyond repair.
💖💖
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