Tag: lovestory

  • Restless souls write

    Restless souls write

    Restless souls write

    Anxious souls read

    Complacent souls pay no heed

    And then there’s me. Fitting uncomfortably in each space, while not fitting in at all.

    There’s a blessing in being anomalous. It spares us the slavery of living by rules.

    But blessings don’t occur without burdens, and the burden of being anomalous is the restlessness that it spawns.

    As we look around for familiarity, but only find much to scorn, we see the drudgery of the complacent and the fear of the anxious.

    And in that is born our restlessness that stirs us from our sleep.

    Once you’ve tasted the sweetness of living, existing feels like a curse. And once you’ve tasted the beauty of love, its absence feels like…nothing…it feels like nothing at all.


  • Poetry of old

    Poetry of old

    “Poetry often belies the age of the poet,

    but always reveals the struggles of the soul.

    What we write of youth, applies to old.

    But most would rather resist it,

    Than bear the truth be told.

    I’m in love with life.

    But I hate the world.”

    It’s possible to live life romantically, you know. Despite the horrors and pain that appear to be so pervasive in this world, perhaps romance is the ultimate rebellion against the cruelty of life.

    Perhaps.

    This is something that I wrote a few years ago, it still accurately describes my conflicted relationship with this world.

    What you take from this, be it pessimistic, optimistic, or simply cynical, is a reflection of who you are and what your current relationship is with your world.

    Yet, most will read into this what they believe to be true about me, not realising that what we see in others is a reflection of what we are hopeful, grateful, or bitter about in that moment.

    How connected are you with your relationship with the world around you?

  • To be loved…

    To be loved…

    Love, without understanding, is mere infatuation.

    To love, is to see the strength that created such beauty, not just to admire the beauty.

    To love, is to caress the scar with a gentleness that honours the pain that caused it.

    To love, is to see the pain that sometimes distorts the beauty, without devaluing the beauty.

    To love, is to see, before needing to be seen.

    The profession of love, without truly knowing who is being loved, is a profession of need, more than it is an embrace.

    It is when our need to be understood by our beloved exceeds our desire to understand them first that love makes a silent exit, and entitlement replaces it.

    To truly love, you must first seek to understand, because understanding demands that you pay attention to your beloved, before you feel a need to demand their attention for what you need instead.

    Be loved. Be blessed.

  • Tears

    Tears

    Tears hold no value if left to dry on their own.

    It’s the gentle touch that wipes it away

    That fulfils its yearning

    Be gentle with yourself, beloved

    The world mocks the extraordinary

    Because ordinary is safer for meek souls

    (a snip of things to come in my new novel, Taqdeer, A Dance With Destiny)

  • Only you

    Only you

    “I’ve been incompatible with anyone else since I met you.”

    Sometimes, without warning, someone enters your life and challenges every assumption you ever made about what’s possible.

    What you thought you deserved was limited to what you were capable of achieving up to that point, and maybe just a quiet desire to acquire some peace beyond it.

    Until they see in you what you thought was your own delusions, and you see in them what you thought were only your dreams.

    Once you connect with that truth, nothing can convince you that anything less is what you must settle for.

    Settling becomes a vulgar thought, and fulfilment becomes incomplete without them.

    When that happens, the distance between love and torture grows, and you find yourself stretched between the two, with only shards of sanity to prevent you from being torn apart.

    Those shards will tear at your dreams and taunt your delusions until their embrace is secured.

    Until then, life becomes a dyslexic dance with insanity, and love remains elusive.


  • The beauty of perfection

    The beauty of perfection

    The beauty of perfection escapes the bitter heart.

    Bitterness is the toxin that we hold on to after we experience a betrayal of our trust in another.

    Sometimes that trust is so dear, that we hold on to the poison of its mishandling to protect ourselves from ever being vulnerable to such hurt again.

    Sadly, in doing so, we also deny ourselves the opportunity to experience the beauty that may be the remedy to heal the wound of that unkind betrayal.

    Thus, we anchor ourself in the same past that we wish we could forget, or undo.

    Inevitably, the ones who offer the beauty that we need to breathe fully again are the ones who receive the caustic treatment intended to protect us from such future pain.

    Without realising it, we pay the pain forward, and become part of the cycle that stole our innocence by destroying the innocence of another.

    Break the cycle, beautiful soul. Break the cycle. It will raise your station above the toxic one so that you won’t find yourself looking at the world from their vantage point any longer.