In a place where no one speaks the language of Love, Love’s trying to find me, and I, it. In this corner of the world, darkness prevails and to speak of Love, to follow Love, to yearn for Love, to stand for Love is unheard of – it’s completely foreign. Almost like Love hasn’t touched this place. Almost like, the entire universe and everything that encompasses truth is somehow outside this land, outside its people. It feels as though Love doesn’t exist here. It’s unfathomable here.
Even though the same trees grow, the same wind blows, the same sky, the same moon, the same sun – the same everything which is everywhere is here too. Yet, the feeling of being so far removed from the rest of the world although illusory feels utterly and terribly real to the one who feels stuck here. Cornered here.
My body is filled with the fear those in love with darkness have instilled in it. The more I move towards Love, the angrier it seems to make them. The more fear rises in me. The closer Love moves towards me, the stronger they seem to get in their resistance to any any sprout of Love trying to blossom within me. Like a flower growing in the crack of the pavement being stomped on by an unconscious passerby. So it is, with Love and me in this place.