My dear friend,
Today I was wondering, like how a child wonders why the stars cannot be reached. I was thinking, like Albert Enstein hard at work with relativity. I was realising, like the sudden revelation that comes before regret. But most of all, my dear friend, I was feeling, like I have never felt before.
And so I asked the question. The question that haunts us all. The question that questions the questioner. The question I was dying to know the answer to.
What is this feeling that fills me up, yet empties my soul? What is this force that compels me to great heights and bottomless pits? What is this emotion that floods me, rain in an empty valley? What is this tingling sensation that tickles me;delights me; hurts me; saddens me- fills me with joy and grief at the same time? What am I feeling?
L-O-V-E.
O' mistress Love, who are you? Why do you entice me, seduce me, torment me, with your misgivings and charm? O' Your Majesty Love, where do you reside and what do you seek in etching a smile to my sullen face?
And they replied in unison: I am nothing, yet everything; I am the good, and the evil. I do not seek you with my charms, for it is you who are seeking me. I reside in all around us, especially in your heart. And I seek nothing, and everything in giving joy, for nothing and everything is the price of love.
No stranger or more miraculous thing has the world, save Love. For no other potion can turn an ordinary young woman into an angel beyond words; and a quaint nervous boy into a Greek God. No other almighty power can turn friend into foe, or foe into friend. No other grand architect can build bridges where there are none, and turn nothing into everything.
In this world, there are mighty kings and valiant warriors who know not of defeat. And yet, all fall like ants under a giant's wrath before Love. There are men, possessed of immesurable wealth. And yet, with Love, the poorest may feel to be the richest, and the richest may be the poorest.
It is no surprise then, that Love be free and yet so costly. Oh yes, Love floats to those who think not themselves, not of their companions, but of the 'we'. Loves rewards not the 'I', not the 'You', but the 'Us'. Yes, it is free, for it is a miracle: The more you give, the more you keep.
But no! It comes at a price. The price is your soul, perhaps your very own existence. What? You think it too high a price? O' miser, it is cheap at that price, for love cannot be bought! Nor can it be surely earned! Love sometimes comes floating to those who least expect it.
Ah love! So sweet and bitter; so splendid, so terrible; so selfless, so selfish; so much passion, so much possession- O' is there a more bewildering paradox in this world?
