A flower vase is a pretty sight for everyone. Pretty, poise and perfect. But that’s not art, is it? You may say it’s pretty but that thought lasts only for that moment. You see it, but you never look.
For that matter, you look at a pretty, poise and perfect girl and find it a pretty sight too. But the question is, do you appreciate that sight? I’ll leave you there.
Anything perfect gets only that momentary praise. For that compliment to turn into appreciation, it needs something more.
The mind will always find perfect pretty, but never more than that. Why?
Appreciation comes from imperfection. A vase is looked up at only for inspiration for a perfect art class project submission. It’s not looked at as art.
The mind appreciates things it can relate to. Anything broken. Being broken is never bad, as broken is what we are.
I’d never thought someone could ever replicate his touch. The way my heart pounded when he touched me with his eyes, touched me from within. The kind of unrest- I called love. He invoked an unknown, vivid and restless fire inside of me. I couldn’t sit still when he was around, couldn’t do anything far related to calm. He was like the storm I had never experienced in life.
It’s different now. I don’t feel the same way when I first started out, I was afraid. There was no fire, no storm. I was terrified- what if I don’t feel the same way about him , that way, the way I felt about him. I felt like the sea- calm, composed and really at peace. Like I have reached my horizon after miles of swaying, swimming and searching. Suddenly, my life is about me, and I feel like I want him , not need him . I was lying there, confused, about what I felt. Was the unrest that I felt love? Was the calm inside of me a sign of my incapability to love again? Or w...
Well, that was deep .Well written :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you, means a lot
DeleteNice!:)
Delete❤
DeleteThat's what she's said
ReplyDeleteWell, whatever that meant
DeleteQT
DeleteLoved those last words
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