Whoever said Love is a feeling
Was dead wrong.
A feeling is fleeting.
A bird flitting by a window on a perfect Spring afternoon
Attention's momentary thief
Gone as quick as it came- or quicker
A single stroke of vibrancy, maniacally snatching the eye's present
Leaving not even a shadow in it's wake
Blurred by distance and inevitably rubbed out
by that pink top on the far end of time.
A feeling is shallow.
the half evaporated remnants of yesterdays rain
What once seemed wide and deep and impassable
Now a mere inconvenience
More trouble to walk around than through
Because
Your shoes will dry.
And though you wanted more than anything to fall in
To dive deep and far
To soak until your very core was wet to the touch,
There is no depth here- nowhere to fall or swim
Not even enough to walk around
Because
Your heart will dry
A feeling is traceable.
When you let loose the starving hounds
Chained to that rock within that you call your self
They quickly catch a feeling's scent
And hungrily bound from heart to head
Until they reach it's source and feast on the meal of
BECAUSE.
Most of all, a feeling is -ED'd -
Identified, characterized, labled, classified, named, valanced, polarized, and defined
Happy is, Sad is, Mad is, Glad is.
A feeling is a fill in the blank exam
And we were given all the answers.
But Love is the one time in the test of life that your heart will happily circle-
None of the above.
Love is no feeling.
It's definition, a faint, four letter reflection
Whispering from the mirror of the soul:
LOVE is LOVE
And on closer inspection, the inner eye turns on itself
To see the entirety of the world captured within the O
The other letters, beautiful bookends that help keep you on your feet
When its weight threatens the balance you once held dear.
Love is no feeling
Leading chase, it sends the heart's hounds round in circles,
From heart to head and back, in a doomed search for a source
But they will find no
BECAUSE,
At the end of Love's leash
Yet their hunger is sated all the same.
Love is no feeling.
When you fall, or jump, or are knocked and dragged into its brilliant depths
The sinking begins and knows no end.
As the pressure builds, your pores are filled
Your mouth opens, Your lungs scream
And you breathe for the first time,
The light of love's embrace.
And still you are pulled further down,
Crushing the thick exoskeleton built by life's hardness
Exposing the fragile gem at your core
Soaking, caressing and molding
As in the depths you become that which you always were
But could never be, alone.
Love is no feeling.
To say love lasts or persists, declares a fatal misunderstanding.
Time holds no dominion here
Bitter and futile is its battle
As for once, Time itself regrets it did not have more.
For love devours the endless procession from past to future
Collapsing its feeble arms to a singular
NOW
Love is no feeling.
Love is.
