I listen. I write. It happens. It is...
You might ask, why do I mention, and address Love so much?
Well, what other is there, that deserves being mentioned?
This Love has shown itself to me, at a very young age. Not knowing what it was, I distanced myself from it by using heavy drugs.
It speaks to me, and I listen. Yet, I have confused it for the connection between me and women. Hence why I was never satisfied with such relationships. This Love knows no other. It only is itself.
It doesn't seek, nor compromises. It is impatient as a curious child, yet silent as Night. It burns in my Heart like a wildfire, ready to devour every false concept of it, me, and other.
When I mention it, there is no one that is being addressed, for this Love is not personal. It is a deep call, without voice, from within the depths of Soul.
It is here, to meet itself.
In my interpretations, I have misunderstood myself. As such, others have misinterpreted my words, for I still held seeking and longing in my desires.
There is no person, that can rise to this Love.
Yet, there is still that darkness that lurks within my mind, playing tricks of pleasurable nature. I used to see myself in that, but it is no more. This Love has no shadow...nothing to be compared with, for it is the eternal seed that holds the flower.
This is no motivational talk, it holds no romance or philosophy. It is direct as one's pure truth can be.
It is a testament, for words have now lost their expressive value, and thus became Life...bound to no thing...free from, yet not separate from all.
Words are now that for me. I listen. I write. It happens. It is...