My Reelity

A while ago, I was asked what is love, and how do you define love. While I’m no love guru, one thing I know for sure is that making lots of merchants happy on one particular day does not define love. But then some will say its romantic … yet I fail to see how following the crowd and doing what everyone is doing can be deemed “romantic”. But lest you find me a cynic to love and romance this year, let me share this beautiful poem :

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

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

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

So whether you have lined the pockets of merchants this day or not, I wish all my readers, a Happy Kenna Fleeced Valentine’s Day!