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
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
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
The drift is all yours.