One does not question why,
Or how, or when...
For love needs no reason
Its existence is love.
Its being is love.
Love exists because one feels.
It needs no answer.
Love waits and sits down in the corner.
It does not shed a tear
And feels no regret for loving.
Love is never selfish.
For it wills to give.
But when love leaves,
Wounds are etched.
Scars are made.
And hearts are broken.
--neiloy--
2 comments:
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving"
- Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII
ah, that crazy little thing called love =) hey there! just blog hopping..
;) yeah that crazy little thing they call love... ehehe
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