This, love is more than a feeling, mano ki ek wajd, a phase, ek kaifiyat, mano ki ek suroor jo labo sa para hn, jismein intaha hoajye, no where is found this relation of soul and concious bounded by immortality in forms so celestial. A potion for parched beings looking for life in others, aur khud ke liya zindagi ki umeed miljaye. It goes every way and sometimes none.
The whole idea to pass is to bring forward the beautiful nuances of love poetry, the melodies and beauty of fading dialects with single message to love and be loved.
Love is an abstract thing for which there is no concrete definition. It can mean and be expressed in infinite ways. Love can be thrilling, but it’s important to remember and embrace the falling action — the day-to-day aspects of love that make it a viable thing. As nice as this is to believe, love does conquer all.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
[somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond]
dawn is a wake for dusk
light will find what is must
what will be will be and thus
shadows speak for us
Veni Vidi Amavi