Love. What is it?

Love?
What is it?
Is it that you begin to enjoy talking with...?
Or Is it the amazing course of dreams in the sleep?
Or Is it a bond where distance and silence turn the things more sinister by the minute?
Or Is it the dire wish to keep your eyes closed forever?
Does it cease the sleep off your nights?
Or Does it let you doze off as if alcohol in your blood?
A natural calamity? A mishap?
An earthquake inside? Or a flood?
What is it?
Is it a thought so persistent that while focusing on your work it doesn't sway you around but is back as soon as you're off your job?
Or Is it a misleader that whirls your mind upside down?
Is it a constant stream beside which a saint ruminates?
Or Is it a prince with a golden crown?
Is it the joy of an endless wait?
Or is it the half cut cherry on the top of a cake?
Is it like a novel which you can't get over?
Or Is it a habit of repeatedly reading and never get tired?
What is it?
Is it as colourful as a rainbow?
Or it doesn't care of being colour-blind.
Is it what's the Whistling Thrush sound?
Or is it that silver lining around a dark cloud?
What is it?
A sun? Bright and scorching?
Or a rain kissed morning?
What is it?
What is it?

Comments

Unknown said…
A triumph of imagination over intelligence

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