Love is not found

Yes, you have been lied to. And what a preposterous lie to have believed in the first place. Love is not found, lying on staircases after the magic disappears. Love is not found by going to expensive balls and dances. Love is not found by singing random songs in a forest, on the contrary that’s how you find the big wolf that will gobble your grandmother up, that’s how you find cannibalistic mad women who live in a house made of candy. Thank God, it is not found by finding glass slippers, imagine all of our worth fitting into a glass shoe. You have been lied to, and it’s a good thing it was a lie.

Love is stumbled upon. Maybe in a bar.  Love is what we trip on, in the middle of the street, the car that nearly kills us and the car that just misses. Love, is what we save when the buildings around us are crumbling even when love is what makes us crumble. Do we fall in love? No. We meet love, in unexpected places, in bookshelves in a library, in a music album, in the words of a diary, in the spring’s calling, in the winter’s parting, in the skies, in our questions.Love is whirling darveshes, love is abandonment, love is loss. Love is chaos.

Love, we meet love.

We greet it open hands, we let it stay within us. We give it chai, that it leaves to the cold winds. We give it a home, where the walls are lined with its poetry. It rips the pages apart and turns them into planes that land against us like darts. Espionage and terrorism. We let it stay because we are bound, bound, bound. Love is binding. Love is nonsensical.

And I, well I met love by stumbling head first into a mirror.

You would think five minutes of meditation would have changed me but it has not. Well I tried. I’ll leave the mystic love bullshit to the likes of Tehreem. 

 

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