The Travellers
"We are lovers" they said
But when all said and done, isn't everyone?
In everything we see
A shape comes to us that we can admire
Between A and B
A quarter-century of worlds
Glitter amongst the alphabet and wait to be found
Each dared to show another
all they saw amid the scattered words
© 2005 Kahdoosch
But when all said and done, isn't everyone?
In everything we see
A shape comes to us that we can admire
Between A and B
A quarter-century of worlds
Glitter amongst the alphabet and wait to be found
Each dared to show another
all they saw amid the scattered words
© 2005 Kahdoosch
posted by Kahdoosch at 6:06 PM
5 Comments:
Oh love is a funny thing. And the entire world is in love haha!
Aren't ya glad you are different?
Being in love and loving aren't the same thing (as you know full well, you rascal ;-))
Travelling is a different thing again...
Should we stop being lovers because we are 'en route'? Between A and B, as it were. It would be terrible to miss out on the journey just because we are in between two destinations, don't you think?
PS... Txs for dropping in Shy, I was getting a bit lonesome over here all on my todd.
Humm Kahdoosch, "Being in love and loving aren't the same thing. So true."
Between me and you. I really don't know what love is on my own accord. I try to be "in love" but I fail at it. So maybe some pointers in this journey for me are in order. Then again. I have some very painful memories that are in need of taking care of. So maybe it is just loving that I need to do at this time. Then maybe I can "be in love" some other time ha!
You are welcome. You can come take to me or me you anytime. You have nice place here.
oh Shy!
Painful memories???
I have those, I assume, as a matter of course, that everyone I meet has them too (because it's hard to imagine that people were born yesterday).
Imagine, a snow filled garden, midwinter, tree limbs heavy with nature's purposeful desolation. A panorama so fresh and exciting it might as well be spring.
Imagine a couple, dressed for warmth, rolling around in whiteness. Snow fights, chasings, wrestlings, then, indoors for hot cocoa and wool-damp embraces.
Imagine, same pair, two days later, the lipstick stained collar, or, the 1am male-voice with the 'wrong number', the accusations, the acrimony.
One pleasant memory, one painful.
Does the painful memory outweigh the pleasant one?
Should it? Even though the two are inextricably linked (and probably overlap)?
I would suggest not. Those traitorous, painful memories lurk there and poison every lovely memory that they are connected with. Replacing the bitter-sweet 'what might have beens' with the self-destructive, 'how could I have been so dumbs' or 'never agains'.
I view, painful memories (of this kind) as a flag, an early warning system, a pointer. Painful memories point to the 'good times' which are no less beautiful just because something bad happened subsequently.
Embrace pain, it's good for you, it lets you know that something matters enough to hurt for.
Different kinds of pain, different kinds of love. I could go on for eons about how I feel about love (far longer than a blog comment allows).
A label attached to an emotional perception of which everyone of us has a unique viewpoint. Ingenious mankind is capable of love well beyond animal instinct.
At it's zenith it must be quite something to find it impossible to love one thing more than any other.
You are far more attuned to love than I, Shy.
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