This piece just gave me the chills. It arouse the Poetic person in me. Oh where can I find my elusive Pygmalion?
When can I know if its the right time?Oh when and where and who?
A Conversation with Love.
Yesterday I had a conversation with Love.
She was a lot shorter than I imagined. Less elegant. A slight-frame, lean build… a square-jaw and a great smile… Her skin was thick, but soft. Her voice was light and musical. Her sentences were symphonies.
She was calm, but confident. She paid attention to details. There was a naturalness about her… She didn’t think before she spoke, but somehow the words still seemed to make sense.
There was pain in her eyes – from loss and longing… travels and tribulations… But her gaze was pure… Wrinkles of concern swam across her forehead. Defeat dripped from her neck. Her scars were visible… apparent, but ambiguous.
She was battle-tested.
She told great stories. The kind that people drop everything to hear. The kind that turns a room into an altar… a crowd into a congregation… She spoke about distant lands and amazing adventures… unfamiliar faces but familiar feelings. She talked about heroes, and knights. And dragon slayers. She talked about losing hope and letting go of dreams…
She told of her own enemies: Fear and Insecurity. She explained how they always tried to hold her back… they always tried to cage her. Hate, she could deal with. He was much easier to find. He had a certain smell… Fear was hidden. Insecurity was invisible… She had suffered at their hands before…
She had a long memory, but lived in the moment. She could reminisce without recounting…. recall without reminding… She never sweated the small stuff, but always remembered the little things.
She was real.
She talked about her younger days. She wasn’t a straight-A student. She cut class sometimes. Started fights in the cafeteria. Got caught cheating once or twice… She loved languages. Spanish, Italian… French was her favorite… “je t’aime” et “mon coeur”…
Growing up, she’d often get confused with her sister, Lust. They looked similar, but Lust had a way hotter body…. and longer hair… They were both spontaneous and free, but Lust had a shorter attention span… she could never focus. Lust was always the life of the party. Lust passed out the cake and poured the champagne.
Love washed the dishes.
She said she’d been walking for years…. Been searching for decades. For what, she wasn’t exactly sure…. She was a natural wanderer. An explorer. She said there was something bigger out there… something magical. She couldn’t describe it… only feel it. She dreamed of it her whole life. And she was closer now… she could sense it.
She had no map. No GPS or navigation. Her iPhone was out of service. She just followed the signs… Looked out for clues. Listened. She moved fast, but tried not to run. Every time she sprinted, she slipped. This journey was about pace… about timing. She had to make sure the speed matched her stride.
She never hid from Danger… never turned away from Trouble. Struggle was her sacrifice. Problems were her passage…. She didn’t know how to back down. She welcomed obstacles. She cherished challenges. She could take on anything, anywhere, anytime.
Love was a fighter.
She had seen a lot. Time wasn’t always kind to her. Experience broke promises. Expectation told lies… She had bruises. Wounds. The bottoms of her feet were rough and tired. And at one point, she became bitter. She began to question the voyage. Uncertainty began to outweigh Passion.
She almost gave up. Almost called it quits. She found a safe place, at the edge of the desert, with a beautiful view of the night sky. She had just enough around her to get by… Survive….. But survival was lonely. Survival wasn’t living… The stars were stunning, but she had no one to share them with… Isolation wasn’t the answer.
So, she began again. Moving. Forward… She was wiser this time. Stronger. More focused. She could still feel Fear close, but he didn’t hold her captive…Caution didn’t constrain her. She was just more careful… She asked the right questions… Recognized the clear signals… Made quicker decisions… She knew better now…
Love was ready.
We talked for hours… the conversation ended too soon…
She left early. She wrote a note, and told me not to wait up. She’d find me again, when the time was right.
I didn’t get to say goodbye.
I’m glad… I didn’t want to.
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