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“What is love?” is not the question that you ask, because there is no single definition for it. Every one of us perceives it differently, and it is different things for each one of us.
Do I think about him you ask? I don’t. I cannot. Because thinking is a conscious action. Something mindful and knowing. He is innate. He is always there. Somewhere. In my gestures. In my words. In my emotions. In my moods.
Do I love him you ask? I don’t know how to answer this. He entered my life like a whiff of sublime fragrance, making his way into the deep ravines of my heart. He became the balm for my aching soul. He became the wind beneath my weary wings. He became the mirror for me to see myself. I surrendered. I felt. I lived.
His caress wakes me up at the crack of dawn. His gaze melts me as the scarlet rays of the setting sun illuminate my heart. His embrace fills me with hope as I soak in the radiance of the moonlit sky. With him, I have dared to dig the long buried corners within. With him, I have blossomed like a self-propelled flower.
I don’t know if I love him, but I love myself when I am with him. And that I believe might be one and the same thing.
Author’s Note: All of us at some point in our lives have tried to define love. Over the years, I have come to recognize that love cannot be defined. It can only be discovered. This process of discovery is unique for each one of us and takes shape as we evolve through our life experiences. While this literary piece is straight out of my imagination, it is reflective of my own journey of discovering, understanding and perceiving love in its varied manifestations.
A version of this was first published on the author’s Facebook wall.
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