Love is like a seed waiting to blossom. It lies beneath every surface waiting to be nourished. Every drop it is fed sprouts a new petal, its growth stimulated through the pleasure of commitment; for commitment breeds great pleasure. As each essence unfolds from within, it manifests itself outwardly, scattering its comfort to the surroundings. The blossoming of this love emulates into a source of illumination that guides the wandering, nourishes the deprived and calms the distraught.

Love is delicate. There are those who are reckless with love often letting it slip from their grasp with improper attention and lack of commitment. There are those who devour it in one gulp, swallowing without digestion. The value of true love is hidden from them or rather it melts upon consumption, denying them of an everlasting taste. Their hearts are left cold and emptiness within them persists.

It is only those who savour every drop of it while preserving its value, ensuring that it becomes a part of them and moulds them into the essence of their being, whose hearts wholly benefit. They let the stalk of love remain firmly rooted while receiving the fragrance of its scent and the sweetness of its taste, always admiring its precious and timeless beauty. They regard love as a life support that connects them with its Owner.

Like an admirer of an art piece, ever longing to meet its artist.

All of life is a journey. Which paths we take, what we look back on, and what we look forward to is up to us. We determine our destination, what kind of road we will take to get there, and how happy we are when we get there.

The Eyes of Love never turn away from its Source

There are times when we just sit in isolation and ponder over why our hearts erupt into such feelings. Feelings that plunge us into attachment for someone close to us. We wonder why our hearts flutter graciously whenever we are around that special person in our lives and even when we are not in their company, our heart aches in yearning and remembrance of that person.

Perhaps the key lies to the source of love. It is impossible to describe love in its whole, just as it is impossible to describe its Creator in whole. Even substituting expressions of our dimension doesn't wholly amount to what it really feels inside when the heart feels love. Love is exquisite. It is a name of His that He has reserved in a special place for His creation. In a place where the entire body is sustained from its core, with all vessels connected to it. It functions as a life support pumping existence to every outlet.

Surely, one who truly treasures and acknowledges the splendours he has been endowed with looks to the origins of its intricate beauty and glorifies its Maker. What love beholds really, only He knows, for it came from Him and surely to Him it must return.

Possessing Love

The ones who look to love as something that has been simply given to them for their possession fail to capture its true essence. As soon as it comes to them, they savour it with all their might, grasping it tight, hoping it to never fade away. To them love is of material possession, for when it exists, to them it exists as theirs. Hence, when it departs, they feel that a part of them departs along with it, caving a crater of emptiness within their hearts.

Those who greet love like a fountain spring cleansing and soothing them at every chance truly acknowledge its existence. These are the hearts that detect the Eternity of Love, acknowledging love in every corner of existence, knowing that it is the Name that drives creation, the battery of survival. To them love is immaterial. It never begins and it never ends.

ruin the air by Atif

Love once dwelt here in my head with all of its mindless fantasies
it ruled my every thought
Offering to do the illogical
Willing to do anything to achieve its goal

I'm not who I was anymore
You can't come back again
I'm too far gone
I'm not who I was anymore

I can't be blamed for your mistake
You told me I wasn't worth it
You said you never meant those things you said
You expected me to wait
And my heart still screams out for you

But I'm not who I was anymore
You can't come back again
I'm too far gone
I'm not who I was anymore

I'm too far to turn back now
The wounds are slow to heal
But I can't come back
You never could understand

(Moving on is hard and some times you have to hold back the tears, smile, pretend everything will be okay and move on )

....

what innumerable follies laid waste my waking n sleepings thoughts after evening last night.i wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days.i chafed against the work of university.At night in my bedroom n by day in the class room there are unacceptable ideas comes between me n the page.I strove to read "the syllables of word * **love** were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated n cast an eastern enchasment over me.I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I hardly had any patience with the serious wrok of life which now that it stood between me and my desire ,seemed to me child's play ,Ugly monotonous child's Play.