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I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands. That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.
They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but I evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are right in their blame.
Those who came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.
- From Tagore's Gitanjali
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.
ReplyDeleteLove is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
(not my original writing, attributed to St. Augustine and even included in a beautiful movie. The sensitivity and understanding in these words are par excellence. Although I would not recommend all of Augustine's readings, this one always reminds me of what we need to need to wait for, and hope for.
For in love's leftovers lies its real truth; in its apparent emptiness lingering hope takes refuge; in the pains of separation lies the eternal truth that there is a brighter tomorrow. Make sense?)
- FANfully W
missed u by an hour and 37 minutes :(
ReplyDelete-W
@W:
ReplyDeleteSuch beautiful words! Love is a feeling most difficult to put into words but it is so nicely done here that it makes sense after all :)