It is 0330 hours here (military time), so it is 3:30 EST as I post this.
I'm not sure what I am trying to get at, but just know that it is from my heart.
Thanks for reading it... if you do.
Let me know what you think.
Love hits us when and where we least expect to find it; it is irrational and unpredictable, but there is no object to which one can compare love. A heart is too bland and too unoriginal; the moon is too fickle and too predictable,and the stars, while long lived and radiant, are so distant and ever cycling. The sun is more about passion and ever burning desire, and water is ever moving and lacks security. Love is a noun within its own right.
Love hit me on the train named Predictability... or was it Routine? I got lost some where on that railroad; I remember boarding it in a haze of smoke, loud voices of lovers bidding each other well, families sending their young off to lives of learning and education, and some much like myself returning home to Monotony, a town with a steady growing population. I took to the same cabin that had brought me safely to Point A in my life, although the chap in the line behind me had assured me that it was called Point B, but my ticket now read Point A to Monotony. Anyway, the ticket should have been the least of my worries because as the train began to move, a gentleman poked his head into my cabin and inquired as to whether he could join me. I assured myself that I was in no need of companionship, but there was plenty of room, so I agreed in a friendly and oddly polite manner for someone who enjoyed traveling alone. I planned to lose myself out the window, quite sure that Monotony was on the horizon waiting for a girl it had always known would call it home.
Just as my plan had begun to kick in and as the landscape passing by my window had began to blur, the gentlman began to stir a bit and distracted me with his laughter. When asked what he was laughing at, he simply replied that he could only imagine how a lady like myself had fallen into such a rut. I could not help but to smile, if only he knew how unpredictable I could be when I was not heading for a world full of routine in a town called Monotony, a town where people plan their lives from day to day. (I am not saying that their plans always succeed, but they still planned.) I was heading back to the same routine, and it was truly the routine that I dreaded; I did not dread the return to friends and family that I held dearest to my heart sealed tightly in a silver locket around my neck. I told him of friends and family and life that waited at home, and he told me of his travels and journeys, of places I have never seen and of peoples I would never meet.
A trip that would have seemed as hours on my own flew by almost too quickly, and I lost track of time completely; I was so lost in our discussion that I missed the conductors calls for my stop, my station, my Monotony. I found myself on an adventure with a gentleman with whom I barely knew; I found myself with a traveling companion and heartfelt friend, and I found myself bearing my soul, my pains, my past, and my joys to a stranger who did the same with me. We found ourselves taking long walks and speaking hopefully of the future but keeping our minds in the here and now; we found each other.
Love never reveals itself the way we all dream; it is more subtle, and it is more gentle. It requires no big ball with lovely maids in elegant dresses or long drawn out battles with men in silver armor. Love bears itself in conversation of strangers who find ground so common that it has soil to take root and grow into the holding of another's heart in the palm of your hand and admiring the handiwork of its very creation. That is love as I have come to know it.
I'm not sure what I am trying to get at, but just know that it is from my heart.
Thanks for reading it... if you do.
Let me know what you think.
Love hits us when and where we least expect to find it; it is irrational and unpredictable, but there is no object to which one can compare love. A heart is too bland and too unoriginal; the moon is too fickle and too predictable,and the stars, while long lived and radiant, are so distant and ever cycling. The sun is more about passion and ever burning desire, and water is ever moving and lacks security. Love is a noun within its own right.
Love hit me on the train named Predictability... or was it Routine? I got lost some where on that railroad; I remember boarding it in a haze of smoke, loud voices of lovers bidding each other well, families sending their young off to lives of learning and education, and some much like myself returning home to Monotony, a town with a steady growing population. I took to the same cabin that had brought me safely to Point A in my life, although the chap in the line behind me had assured me that it was called Point B, but my ticket now read Point A to Monotony. Anyway, the ticket should have been the least of my worries because as the train began to move, a gentleman poked his head into my cabin and inquired as to whether he could join me. I assured myself that I was in no need of companionship, but there was plenty of room, so I agreed in a friendly and oddly polite manner for someone who enjoyed traveling alone. I planned to lose myself out the window, quite sure that Monotony was on the horizon waiting for a girl it had always known would call it home.
Just as my plan had begun to kick in and as the landscape passing by my window had began to blur, the gentlman began to stir a bit and distracted me with his laughter. When asked what he was laughing at, he simply replied that he could only imagine how a lady like myself had fallen into such a rut. I could not help but to smile, if only he knew how unpredictable I could be when I was not heading for a world full of routine in a town called Monotony, a town where people plan their lives from day to day. (I am not saying that their plans always succeed, but they still planned.) I was heading back to the same routine, and it was truly the routine that I dreaded; I did not dread the return to friends and family that I held dearest to my heart sealed tightly in a silver locket around my neck. I told him of friends and family and life that waited at home, and he told me of his travels and journeys, of places I have never seen and of peoples I would never meet.
A trip that would have seemed as hours on my own flew by almost too quickly, and I lost track of time completely; I was so lost in our discussion that I missed the conductors calls for my stop, my station, my Monotony. I found myself on an adventure with a gentleman with whom I barely knew; I found myself with a traveling companion and heartfelt friend, and I found myself bearing my soul, my pains, my past, and my joys to a stranger who did the same with me. We found ourselves taking long walks and speaking hopefully of the future but keeping our minds in the here and now; we found each other.
Love never reveals itself the way we all dream; it is more subtle, and it is more gentle. It requires no big ball with lovely maids in elegant dresses or long drawn out battles with men in silver armor. Love bears itself in conversation of strangers who find ground so common that it has soil to take root and grow into the holding of another's heart in the palm of your hand and admiring the handiwork of its very creation. That is love as I have come to know it.
