It's ironic and pathetic at the same time to have known and seen different faces and phases of love, that now I'm unable to recognise which of them was true or fake, reality or a delusion, bad or good, right or wrong....
I got so lost in those faces, phases, colours and designs of love, that all the memories and theories of it started feeling like a dream, all unreal.
And I realised that we spend all of our lives discovering, differentiating between, inventing intriguing concepts about the lie and truth, hate and love and everything else which has ever marked it's presence in this universe so much, that we knowingly or unknowingly get entangled in that journey...
A journey where at the end of our destiny and destination stands the Angel of Death, humbly smiling, ready to kiss and embrace us into oblivion like no one else....
Maybe that's love.
Unconditional love.
I got so lost in those faces, phases, colours and designs of love, that all the memories and theories of it started feeling like a dream, all unreal.
And I realised that we spend all of our lives discovering, differentiating between, inventing intriguing concepts about the lie and truth, hate and love and everything else which has ever marked it's presence in this universe so much, that we knowingly or unknowingly get entangled in that journey...
A journey where at the end of our destiny and destination stands the Angel of Death, humbly smiling, ready to kiss and embrace us into oblivion like no one else....
Maybe that's love.
Unconditional love.
