The age-old question remains open,
Why they fall in love again and again?
Hearts racing against each other?
Smile accompanying a small gesture?
An unknown feeling like the known?
Or that chill within each bone?
The drop of rain hitting your cheek,
While the gloomy cloud becomes weak?
Is it the river of guilt that flows,
When time gives mighty blows?
Beyond all good and bad, is it there?
If not then why – “All is fair…”?
Are ribs stronger than the heart?
Caring only toughens the part.
Don’t know if it’s once and forever,
Or can be found in any other corner.
Three magical words put the spell,
Which rings in the cupid bell.
A smile can cure anything, they said.
But the curve costs a lot, I’ve read.
Walking along the path together,
You can’t keep track of the weather.
Cause though it’s easy to make one smile,
Making them cry doesn’t take a while.
Memories fly in and nests cry out,
All the good times, out the stars shout.
So love, to me, is a mystic being,
Which leads me to ask one thing:
That field Rumi wanted to reach,
What if it only failed to teach?
That you may love and keep on loving,
There prevail ideas of right-and-wrong doing.
Image by A Hopeless Anachronism
