The Eyes of Love never turn away from its Source
There are times when we just sit in isolation and ponder over why our hearts erupt into such feelings. Feelings that plunge us into attachment for someone close to us. We wonder why our hearts flutter graciously whenever we are around that special person in our lives and even when we are not in their company, our heart aches in yearning and remembrance of that person.
Perhaps the key lies to the source of love. It is impossible to describe love in its whole, just as it is impossible to describe its Creator in whole. Even substituting expressions of our dimension doesn't wholly amount to what it really feels inside when the heart feels love. Love is exquisite. It is a name of His that He has reserved in a special place for His creation. In a place where the entire body is sustained from its core, with all vessels connected to it. It functions as a life support pumping existence to every outlet.
Surely, one who truly treasures and acknowledges the splendours he has been endowed with looks to the origins of its intricate beauty and glorifies its Maker. What love beholds really, only He knows, for it came from Him and surely to Him it must return.
Possessing Love
The ones who look to love as something that has been simply given to them for their possession fail to capture its true essence. As soon as it comes to them, they savour it with all their might, grasping it tight, hoping it to never fade away. To them love is of material possession, for when it exists, to them it exists as theirs. Hence, when it departs, they feel that a part of them departs along with it, caving a crater of emptiness within their hearts.
Those who greet love like a fountain spring cleansing and soothing them at every chance truly acknowledge its existence. These are the hearts that detect the Eternity of Love, acknowledging love in every corner of existence, knowing that it is the Name that drives creation, the battery of survival. To them love is immaterial. It never begins and it never ends.
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