when it comes to love
I often reflect on Rumi’s love poem:
“The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere,
they're in each other all along.”
and, then, there is Tennyson’s oft-quoted line:
“Tis better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all.”
which reminds me of a woman of relatively high society
I recently met in LA
as we sat on her luxurious living room sofa sipping tea –
with downcast eyes – she said to me:
“I’ve never really loved anyone, you know, with
the kind of love you read about and see in movies.
I don’t know why, but true love seems to elude me.
But yet, I still seek love - and I yearn to be loved.”
her voice, lips and eyes held hints of sadness
an inner turmoil perhaps bordering on madness
Her words gave me pause
pause to meditate about loving and being in love
pause to consider the secrets of love
when in high school and afraid to dance
I remember hearing Frank Sinatra sing:
“Love is a Many Splendored Thing”
these lyrics stirred my heart during a new romance
while sitting in my car looking into Judy’s light blue eyes
I turned up the radio and sang along with Frank:
“Love is a many splendored thing
It’s the April rose that only grows
In the early Spring
Love is nature’s way of giving
A reason to be living
The golden crown that makes a man a king
“Once on a high and windy hill
In the morning mist two lovers kissed
and the world stood still
Then your fingers touched my silent heart
and taught it how to sing
Yes, true love’s a many splendored thing”
what is love – is it fulfilling one’s defined passion during the journey –
is it a fleeting fantasy – a mirage that evaporates upon
reaching its destination – a superb source of Madison Avenue revenue –
sublimation of primal energies into lustful synergies
is love a ruse of the Muse to abuse
like loving a particular turn of phrase – an unforgettable melody – a dream –
a cliché such as “love at first sight” – or, “love of awakening to embrace
the wonder of living another day”
I remember a time, when I was in pain - and I became objectively curious –
for pain, I philosophized, may only be felt while we are alive – therefore,
pain serves as an affirmation of our living manifestation
Imagine – imagine being so deeply in love that it is painful
through the pain - I saw and felt a profound beauty surrounding me
beauty imbued with love flowing through every facet of this bewildering creation
so now – when asked about love
I feel I have gathered some wisdom
for love is “a many splendored thing”
limited only by our imagination
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem