Love is like a pouring rain

Always looking for the missing piece

Wondering what it looks like

Does it come in a nicely wrap gift with a purple ribbon?

Does it introduce itself with a beautifully and intricately woven package?


Does it lay bare in your face sound and pristine?


It comes as a lie.

Then it becomes the truth.

Somehow, you wouldn’t believe it to be true 

Cos it doesn’t say ‘hi, I’m LOVE. And I’m here to make you love.’

No. That’s not how it works. 


There’s much more truth within a lie more passionate than the reality.

That even when it’s there, you see it, you feel it, you want it still 

You hold back. 


Fear of finding and losing it as you let on.

I thought about love like a museum. 

Where past and present live and settle. 

Like space, it’s infinite –untraceable 

Like infinity — incomprehensible. 

But to be one with love the past and present must coexist 

Like a memory cup, made of authentic clay, buried deep down the earth —

Unearthed by its rightful heir. 

We try to analyze love to understand 


But just like the curator, no matter how long he has worked and known the artifacts 

It may even be 20 years–all his life 

Through exhibits and self-knowledge 

Still he can’t understand 

Its value and its reason

Like the human heart 

It takes time to understand 

But Love remains there 

It stays. 

Built upon memories put together to help you find your way back

And when it’s there, 

You’ve found it

Like a pouring rain 

You let it. 

You get soaked 

And dance 

Smile and laugh 

It’s rare and raw 

You’re careless and the world knows 

Love is a pouring rain

Either you swim with it and sink 

Or get a bucket and catch it

It may even look like you’ve lost it, misplaced it

Only to realize it was hidden in the showroom

along with the other precious relics

waiting for you to notice and accept 

Its presence. 

The drift is all yours.

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