Thursday, June 16

I'm not a writer, nor one with wisdom. But hear me when I say that love creeps.
The raging current and ravenous waves of love rushes at you with great audacity at the most unlikely moments. It takes time. And while you sit there- silent and unknowing- it boils inside you. That when finally you feel a hint of it, you toss and turn to find reason. Usually you fail. Then you realise that the one you love is not the one you've been attending to. But her. She who is and has always been there. Just out of focus from your lens occluded by your shallow hopes of happiness and erratic bursts of temporary infatuation. You remain stagnant in the realisation that your love lies in the one you can never have. That the only hope you have is the wish that perhaps in an alternate lifetime things will be different.

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