Friday With Firkan #2
Somewhere inside me is a really beautiful love song.
I sense it from time to time. It’s catchy, smile-inducing, cute and sugary-sweet.
It’s also a song I can’t write.
It struggles to see the light of the day, constantly trying to get written and released of the prison that is my heart. I only know its bits and pieces – a few words, a nice phrase, an incomplete melody. But never have I been able to put it together into that swirling, swinging, red-colored magic potion of a love song.
I’ve been in love a few times. Or, at least I was sure at the time that what I had was love.
I realize I’m one of the lucky ones. To have loved and to have been loved in so many ways is nothing short of miraculous.
But hearing that does nothing for a hurting heart, does it?
You’re cursed. To find a new love again, with the hope that this edition would last. And it always looks like it will, until it doesn’t.
I’ve never been a believer in “love forever”. Love begins, and then morphs into shapes and forms and sizes. What’s wonderful one day feels utterly dull the next. There are peaks of beauty and valleys of despair.
But even if you reduce it to plain biochemistry, love does exist.
And it flourishes if you let it.
When you let it seep through your veins and fill up your being, when you let it flow through the arteries without caring for how it will make you feel, when you stop wishing it would go a certain way and instead just follow the way it’s going – love grows, flourishes, stays.
And so does that love song. I see it growing each day. Bit by bit, piece by piece, word by word. It’s slow. It isn’t sure what direction it wants to take. It isn’t clear on the message it wants to carry. It’s scared of being wrong, it’s scared of being like the ones it doesn’t like, it’s scared it won’t be perfect.
Or maybe, I am.