In love with Love

I find it strange how someone's face, distanced by several years, sends tingles down our spine. All that is required is the right song. Next you need to think of the most beautiful face you ever saw. That one face which you always wished to plant a kiss on. Beware if you belong to the rare kind; the ones who lived that dream. For the ride then is full throttled overdrive. Week after weak, days after daze and years after yearns, never having to miss her, for its tough to miss something you just found. To cup that delicate structure in your hands and peer deep down into those two black windows. Comfortably taking it for granted, we forget to acknowledge the jubilation which accompanies Him each time He sees His creation.

I close my eyes and her profile flickers in pure abyss; just formed to accommodate her exclusively. Sharp nose, long drawn eyes with the apt amount of soot; all of it placed on a bronze structure made of flesh and bones.

Do I want her? I shall not ruin the mood by making a futile attempt at answering that.

I hereby solemnly appeal: "Please break all the constructs, definitions, shackles you have been cajoled coercively in to your motley beliefs; the works of the despisers of love," for only then would be in love with the innate hope called Love.

I close my eyes and wantonly drift away into the music. I feel exactly what I felt each time I consumed her in my arms. For smiles and tears are both mere means of expressing the bright glow filling me from within. It touches maybe emanates from my heart. Its neither hot nor is it cold. It surfs through my muscles with ease. But the moment the glow hits my skin, a million rushing feathers brush through my entire surface. It feels good.

It feels like love.