Many times I define love, many times I deny everything other than love
I speak of the love as the only one, for I have none to match the one I call, the one.
I say to my girlfriend/wife that I love you but then, I dint even know you existed few months ago, few years ago, few decades ago
I say I never know what love is until I met you
Do I say that because I have defined love as the absence of love and now I define love as the absence of that absence of that which I defined myself as love
I wonder if that is love
A mother says to her son, I love you, but the mother doesn’t even know the son until she conceived the son/daughter, who was this son/daughter before then, where was the love before?
So, Is love that develops with progression of time, experience and memory?
Is love that comes and goes as I will and wish?, Is that Love?
Rather than condemn this thought, I must consider it!
Is it possible that I define and speak of love as if it is the very life itself, a life that contains all of this illusion of perception of this and that
So as to make me feel secure and keep my illusion of security and comfort going,
So I am intoxicated in this illusion of mine and never to wake up to question my perception of love?
Do I speak of love so I can keep a lock on love
Lock on all that speak of love?
Maybe this is why I don’t want you to change, nor question myself, for then, I don’t have to change because the you don’t have to change.
Maybe, this is why I am so attached to my labels of my race, my country, my religion etc. in my every act and in my every thought I think
May be this why I encourage you to speak of them as well, divide yourself from me as well so we can divide ourselves and I don’t have to change or give up that which I hold on to, cling on to
is this love?
If this is love, then I wonder if this is actually the attachment to the experience of the mind and the memory developed from that experience
When all else fails to satisfy my clinging, my dinging of what I hold on to, I say, love cannot be defined, it must be felt
Forgetting that I am still defining love by un-defining love, in feeling love.
When I cut open my skull, I see no thoughts of hate or love. I cut open my heart, I see no sign of love, so where is this so called love?
Maybe, rather than asking what is love, for that only shows the quality of love
I ask myself “why” do I feel certain way when I “think” of hate or when I “think” that I am in love or I am loved?
Where is this perception of mine coming from?, Is it from this body?, Is it from the others body? And when the other ceases to exist first in my thought, what is happens to love?
Will I then be able to understand/feel for myself, the actuality of that which is happening within me, the awareness of me that I call me
Maybe then, I can no longer hide behind the words or the illusion of my own perceptions and its security/comfort both mentally and physically.
And maybe then I am naked, “COMPLETELY” naked inside out.