poems about love

What will you take from this life?
What things drive you to be wild, or to smile?

I adore the idea of separation, of keeping a distance between yourself and attachment - never being held or tormented by loss or gain, because you are aware.
Awareness.
I am aware of the simplicity of being. I am aware of the fleeting days and of my fragile body. And I am completely satisfied with these surroundings.
And yet, life is truly this brief.

I am to justify suffering? Or weigh the abandonment of suffering as a more desirable goal? What takes precedence, when all is equally as bright?

I listened to the most beautiful poem about love last night. At a poetry reading, in a dimly lit bar. The seduction of wine and of candlelight wrapping itself around the poets and trickling through the audience. There were all types of people there: sand-covered surfers with matted hair and firey eyes, there were elegantly dressed women clutching glasses of white wine, there were honest smiles and fake breasts. The room was filled with the hum of thoughts and wispers.
I watched as a man walked onto stage, standing clamly, as if he was waiting for the perfect and only moment at which he could speak. I watched him strip away his armor, and expose his thoughts - raw, unashamed, awesome. I do not envy him - he was ordinary in all respects, average in looks, unremarkable; and yet his words had such purity and such potency that I was completely mesmerized. When he spoke of love, I felt love: warmth on my face and a glowing ember in the deepest darkest corners of my chest.
I do not believe in falling in love. I do not ascribe to the notion of "finding" a soul mate, or drifting into perpetual happiness, but I wish I did. Part of me knew those words last night.. part of me connected with the hope and the pain and the pleasure of loving. As I listened to his poem, my mind was a blur of memories and faces. Smiles and experiences, and hugs, and screams, and the warmth of skin.
I saw my brother, and my sister, and my mother, and my father, and friends, and girls and mountains and the breathtaking beauty of clouds at sunset. The moments when complexity is lost, when all that matters is that person and that connection. Is that is love? I hope so. That feeling I want to believe in, I want to know - there is freedom and complete torment in enjoying life without others. Happiness was made to be shared.

Life is only a breathe. A heartbeat. A kiss.
forget attachment. But do not forget love.



(Andrew Tipton)