Poem -
Cliché It is Not
In the midst of a precarious world battered and bruised we still speak of love
Testimony to its resiliency pressing through the taboo and the pain and loss of face
Like a tectonic crust poking its tongue at the wild ocean
Daring to persist beneath the weight of icy receptions
Love:
the flame that phoenix envy
and even enlightened Zoroaster could not tame
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Comments
Love is so fleeting in the world. We have it one moment, then like a migratory bird - it vanishes from our life for a while. Then, like magic, we meet someone new find out they are better (in ways) then the recent love loss and we find a way to move on.
However, I've always wondered, if you loved a person in the past, would some of that love remain, like in memories? Maybe love is cumulative like a grade point average, but I hope not because I would be in serious mathematical trouble.
But thinking about the emotion of love for a moment, it captures us quickly like a wild mustang in the open country side, then sometimes, we're either bucked off into a black hole. Or, the horse simply allows us to climb off and find a new horse to get to know. Just my initial thoughts.Â
Another good poem.Â
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All very valid points for infatuation and fuzzy feeling associated with the ambiguous English word "love". In many cultures a broader list of words is used for the concept far more frequently. In English we have words like admiration, affection, commitment, loyalty, companionship etc. But we are less expressive with such a repertoire and in daily utterance default to the lazy blanket word "love". And yet, its ambiguity is a broad brushstroke for a unique human experience of the depth of our voluntary vulnerability. Just some of my thoughts on the matter.