The most interesting thing about love is the way it happens. More often than not, (practically speaking) it is the fulfillment of a need or a blank that exists in our lives. Love that lasts long (now the definition of “long” is of course, relative) is one, which is not (usually) derived from fantasies.
We all imagine our pretty princess, fairer than a fairy, more elegant than Elegance herself; or those knights in their shining proverbial armors, on white (or is it black?) horses, to sweep the dame off her feet. But problems begin when we hunt around for those tales in our own lives, hoping feverishly for that dream to come true, and maybe in the process of searching for what we want, we might ignore what we should have wanted...
We all imagine our pretty princess, fairer than a fairy, more elegant than Elegance herself; or those knights in their shining proverbial armors, on white (or is it black?) horses, to sweep the dame off her feet. But problems begin when we hunt around for those tales in our own lives, hoping feverishly for that dream to come true, and maybe in the process of searching for what we want, we might ignore what we should have wanted...
For what use are the charms of the sweet princess if she refuses to lend a helping hand when her man needs one; and to what avail the valiant knight and his black (or is it white?) horse, if none of his powers can fathom even an inch of that ocean that his woman’s mind would be?
It is perhaps for this reason that it is generally believed that it’s not we who find love, but love that finds us... But that still doesn’t clarify whether (in those unfortunate cases) it is we who lose that love, or is it our love that deserts us?
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