LOVE; OUR POISON, OUR ANTIDOTE
"How dare you vilify love?" I presume you'd ask from much disdain for my claims or out of skepticism.
The answer lies with one whose heart has been endeared to, I'd say, the punches and punctures of the malignant maligning cold fists of this not-so-easy-to relegate concept.
From what temerity do I claim the aforementioned? Some would say, "is he the only one to have felt the flip side?" When in fact they say such in grandeur only to cover up the smoldering bite marks on their hearts from love's canine.
Man brags, man is powerful, man lays claim to things his mind can grasp and beyond yet there's no man who can stand when love is imminent like a dawning doom_ it cripples the fastest sprinter like scissors do fabrics and mold us like tailors do clothes.
Man does not choose how this goes or the frequency with which it happens. He is swept off his feet like a groom does his bride on one of their happiest days. Though these days don't come often, the nostalgia therein is like an epitaph.
I hear that which is our ugliest makes life beautiful; from light comes darkness and darkness light. I hear that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Thus, the flip side of hurt is the aftermath of the power that comes from slit hearts when love consumes us. That power is the strength with which we are propelled to do the never-done when in or out of love's euphoria we fall.
When this infection percolates our flesh and meanders through arteries cum veins into our most sacred parts, more so, without our consent and or permission for a minute span, we sway and bask in its cheap enjoyment like tickles and then what follows after the sweetness of laughter? I dare not say, but if we survive, though everything not being equal always, we have definitely attained the peak of our potential; love wise_ so I think though thoughts differ.
From love's weakness comes the wholesome ability to wither the most violent seismic occurrences. It's like stirring a cup of coffee and more so is the ease with which even kids stir tea.
That love for another who's willing to dine and cry herewith comes the inspiration enough to go through hell's pit to assassinate that horned beast of flamed coals. Though much exhaustion comes with this task, tears shed in the aftermath are those of success. Success that doesn't come with ease though seemingly seeming simple.
Pardon the contradictions within which my mind's pen scribble these words for it is a mystery that even I understands not. My thoughts are so loud you could here my voice from my head without moving my lips nor being aided by my tongue, so forgive me.
Yeah! Surely, love is both powerful yet weak like Hercules was just a foetus before he could crack the most cantankerous seven headed hydra of despicable repute. Love is both mighty yet minute like whales are products from a mixture of almost imperceptible fluids; yet have become world's largest mammals. Love is both black and colorful like sunrise at dawn after the darkest part of pitch dark night. Love is both cries and laughter like the joy that elicits tears. Love is both pain and gain like that bundle of joy that comes after pregnancy's labour; when water breaks_ so they say.
Love is the shield and sword; it conquers all_ so they say.
___Prince Jeremiah Kadiri
The answer lies with one whose heart has been endeared to, I'd say, the punches and punctures of the malignant maligning cold fists of this not-so-easy-to relegate concept.
From what temerity do I claim the aforementioned? Some would say, "is he the only one to have felt the flip side?" When in fact they say such in grandeur only to cover up the smoldering bite marks on their hearts from love's canine.
Man brags, man is powerful, man lays claim to things his mind can grasp and beyond yet there's no man who can stand when love is imminent like a dawning doom_ it cripples the fastest sprinter like scissors do fabrics and mold us like tailors do clothes.
Man does not choose how this goes or the frequency with which it happens. He is swept off his feet like a groom does his bride on one of their happiest days. Though these days don't come often, the nostalgia therein is like an epitaph.
I hear that which is our ugliest makes life beautiful; from light comes darkness and darkness light. I hear that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Thus, the flip side of hurt is the aftermath of the power that comes from slit hearts when love consumes us. That power is the strength with which we are propelled to do the never-done when in or out of love's euphoria we fall.
When this infection percolates our flesh and meanders through arteries cum veins into our most sacred parts, more so, without our consent and or permission for a minute span, we sway and bask in its cheap enjoyment like tickles and then what follows after the sweetness of laughter? I dare not say, but if we survive, though everything not being equal always, we have definitely attained the peak of our potential; love wise_ so I think though thoughts differ.
From love's weakness comes the wholesome ability to wither the most violent seismic occurrences. It's like stirring a cup of coffee and more so is the ease with which even kids stir tea.
That love for another who's willing to dine and cry herewith comes the inspiration enough to go through hell's pit to assassinate that horned beast of flamed coals. Though much exhaustion comes with this task, tears shed in the aftermath are those of success. Success that doesn't come with ease though seemingly seeming simple.
Pardon the contradictions within which my mind's pen scribble these words for it is a mystery that even I understands not. My thoughts are so loud you could here my voice from my head without moving my lips nor being aided by my tongue, so forgive me.
Yeah! Surely, love is both powerful yet weak like Hercules was just a foetus before he could crack the most cantankerous seven headed hydra of despicable repute. Love is both mighty yet minute like whales are products from a mixture of almost imperceptible fluids; yet have become world's largest mammals. Love is both black and colorful like sunrise at dawn after the darkest part of pitch dark night. Love is both cries and laughter like the joy that elicits tears. Love is both pain and gain like that bundle of joy that comes after pregnancy's labour; when water breaks_ so they say.
Love is the shield and sword; it conquers all_ so they say.
___Prince Jeremiah Kadiri
Comments
Noted.