when the sky is grey...
The heart knows no reason. It does not have standards. At its strongest, it conquers the mind. And reasons flew out the window. Is it a crime to follow the heart?
When I see you, I see the picture of bliss. But do I really know you? At times, I think I'm deluding myself. This isn't real. Love should be more than this. But do I know what love is? I read the writings of one's heart. Loved and broken. He, whose love could not be diminished with time. I hear his cry in the sweet dedication to the one who has passed. Is this love?
Many times in life, we cry of broken hearts. Other times of happines. What's with the broken promises? Life is full of surprises, but why must they be the ones that makes us sad? Life is full of colours, but why must the bleaker ones come crashing down? How much can the heart take? Would the mind be strong enough to conquer the storm inside and rationalise the world?
People come and go. Love come and go. They say people leave footprints in our hearts for us to remember them by. When love is gone, why do we want to forget them? Because when love goes away, it makes us cry.
This lament is of bewilderment. A tribute to someone, a stranger, whose love goes beyond death. I cherish the thought that such love still exist. The purity and divinity of what love truly means.
But should the heart grieve beyond reasons that it could not be healed? Love takes time to heal when you're hurting so much. So did Mariah sang many years back. You can never stop the loving. But you can start with the healing. Remember your first love? It is still in your heart, even when it's not as intense as it was. What's with the broken heart? It'll mend in time. It always does. God does not give us test of which we could not face.
Love is a lovely feeling. I have felt it deeply before. But now... I just don't know how it should be anymore. Reading the pouring of one's heart, of love gained and loss, brought back memories. Bitter sweet memories. The laughter and tears. The longing. And the realisation of that empty space unfilled. I have vowed that space would not be easily given. As I could not bear it being tarnished again. That special place that is to belong to that person who will love and cherish, honour and care, in this life and the next.
The colour of tomorrow is still uncertain. Will it be bright or will it be gloomy as yesterday was, I cannot say. I live for today. Yesterday is gone, I should pick the lesson and live today. Tomorrow? It is just another day. And I should live it when it comes, if I'm still here.
I used to think that life can be a fairy tale. But nothing is perfect, and fairy tale is too beautiful. With the colours and magic, the faeries and trolls, the kings and queens, the princes and and the princesses. Stories of beauty and love, of tears that ends with laughter. Stories of happily ever after. But life, could not be happily ever after. Or could it?
I am cynical. Never was. Am now. Can love really conquer all? Or it is just a manifestation of a fool hoping for a better tomorrow. Life is more than just a dream. Kisses are more than just a longing. Hugs are more than just caring.
I am a romantic cynic. Isn't that ironic?
When I see you, I see the picture of bliss. But do I really know you? At times, I think I'm deluding myself. This isn't real. Love should be more than this. But do I know what love is? I read the writings of one's heart. Loved and broken. He, whose love could not be diminished with time. I hear his cry in the sweet dedication to the one who has passed. Is this love?
Many times in life, we cry of broken hearts. Other times of happines. What's with the broken promises? Life is full of surprises, but why must they be the ones that makes us sad? Life is full of colours, but why must the bleaker ones come crashing down? How much can the heart take? Would the mind be strong enough to conquer the storm inside and rationalise the world?
People come and go. Love come and go. They say people leave footprints in our hearts for us to remember them by. When love is gone, why do we want to forget them? Because when love goes away, it makes us cry.
This lament is of bewilderment. A tribute to someone, a stranger, whose love goes beyond death. I cherish the thought that such love still exist. The purity and divinity of what love truly means.
But should the heart grieve beyond reasons that it could not be healed? Love takes time to heal when you're hurting so much. So did Mariah sang many years back. You can never stop the loving. But you can start with the healing. Remember your first love? It is still in your heart, even when it's not as intense as it was. What's with the broken heart? It'll mend in time. It always does. God does not give us test of which we could not face.
Love is a lovely feeling. I have felt it deeply before. But now... I just don't know how it should be anymore. Reading the pouring of one's heart, of love gained and loss, brought back memories. Bitter sweet memories. The laughter and tears. The longing. And the realisation of that empty space unfilled. I have vowed that space would not be easily given. As I could not bear it being tarnished again. That special place that is to belong to that person who will love and cherish, honour and care, in this life and the next.
The colour of tomorrow is still uncertain. Will it be bright or will it be gloomy as yesterday was, I cannot say. I live for today. Yesterday is gone, I should pick the lesson and live today. Tomorrow? It is just another day. And I should live it when it comes, if I'm still here.
I used to think that life can be a fairy tale. But nothing is perfect, and fairy tale is too beautiful. With the colours and magic, the faeries and trolls, the kings and queens, the princes and and the princesses. Stories of beauty and love, of tears that ends with laughter. Stories of happily ever after. But life, could not be happily ever after. Or could it?
I am cynical. Never was. Am now. Can love really conquer all? Or it is just a manifestation of a fool hoping for a better tomorrow. Life is more than just a dream. Kisses are more than just a longing. Hugs are more than just caring.
I am a romantic cynic. Isn't that ironic?
posted by Hajar | 7:01:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home