The Pursuit of Love

You’ve seen a feather right?

The way it flows and has it’s own rhythm.

You’ve seen a singing bird haven’t you, sitting on the bark of a  sweet cocoa tree relaxing to it’s own melodies.

You have seen two lovers, hold on tight to eachother – that sweet surrender of a comfort gaze in eachother eyes. Do you know what it takes for us. . .they echoe to the world, for us to feel this way, be this way, give this way – to be empty and full of eachother – free and yet joint – one but yet individuals.

Vulnerability. Intention. Mastery.

These are elements of ourselves we use everyday, sometimes we hardly recognize it. I often time’s wonder why the revelation itself to this supreme essence of our beings is unexplainable, words try to tell the tale of an infant growing..learning and branching out.

Words are a fragment of this pursuit.

We linger behind them hoping they come out correct, that they are organized and not muddled. In an exhausting yawn I’d say they are never ending words.

Poetry, conversations, debates, arguements, letters, stories, songs, rap’s, sign language, speeches and any more beautiful ways that we use words to articulate our emotions and express feelings.

Each civilaztion must learn what the pursuit of love is, each generation must undergo the trials of intimate living – the trials of Spirits who long for deeper sense of Life.

A tree is beautifully perched on the soil, to and fro it’s branches and leaves wave to every living being. The waters beside it recieving it’s love as it intimately connects with the particles released in the air. . .this is the flow of their aliveness – their own friendship.

In sync.

You and I, I and You, Us both.

Imagine dissolving with the ocean.. becoming the water itself, to chase the wind as it beats against your wave. To hold the boat as it leans on you for strength, to wash his feet as he stares out at the far end of the sea, mesmerized by the soft touch of the ripples.

Its real right? Us.

We keep beginning and as people we never want to slip away, sometimes we do though. To not be weighed down by the unfortunate realities in the world but to honour the truth in the reality of it taking place.

Souls in a land burderned with unpleasent history.

It lurks in the forests, an ambush of rebels – a howl of an owl – informing all living creatures of an intruder, yes..

The earth cries blood of innocent men, the suffering of helpless women, screams of children playing, wails of a hungry baby.

The world.

It unexpectantly forces you to be silent, pulls you in and pushes you out.

Do we grow too quick.

Do we seek much.

Are we learners of a superior world out of this solar system – I’d answer that question as yes.

Its the forbidden fruit that led us to question all that we ever were, who in which we were to serve. It was the forbidden fruit that carved a deep longing inside us, to desire depth of a life questionable and unquestionable. It was with us, it was us, the longing was not longing, it was your side and mine.

Era’s of human philosophy transcending limits of the evolution of men yet circulating in the same bubble. We sought to be in touch, yet we are untouching the touch – the ever breathing emotion of what is.. not us but all.

No matter what goes on in life we solve not everything, for minds of men are occupied with the thoughts of the ‘morrow or how to provide for today.

Society has changed much.

Life has changed, and continues to do so. *smiles*

We must bear in mind, nothing is new under the sun.

We ought love in One.

It’s easier said then done isn’t it. Some of us hide away from such pollution, some of us seek to build better for our loved ones, some of us tired and exhausted of a system that has no nutrients, but is a disease to human nature.

Yours sincerely, we aspire to be words so dearly.. that smother you with home and glee.

Where is home, and what is our glee.

The heart has the knowledge of its own – and in that building it forms a home. The Spirit has a quietness to its being, within it lies a soft glee of essence transcending time and eternity.

Where there is nothing, nothing but the sweet merry feather floating in the air . . .

Right in the mist of that feather, flys a dove and behind the dove a sweet angel sings a song ‘My little sunshine’

The pursuit of love could none else be but the experiment of life’s whole existence, not me, not you, or we but the talking prescence alive between it all.

Observing as it was, as it is and now.

Let there be light, and yes.. it shone and formed all for all to see.

Silence.

 

 

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