"I wanted to ask something to life, but life said: you already know what the answers for your questions are: Love, Love, Love. Then I thought my question would be insufficient, inept. And I kept silence."--Anu
Love denies what is to be spoken. And still there is an undeniable urge to talk about it. But to use words in love is to desecrate it. It exists in the space between abundance and absence, waiting to be explored and taken in. However, it imprisons you in a space where language of any sort is an unwanted vanity, and understanding any thing including love or the loved ones, doesn’t possess justified existence. In love, that means, nothing is to be understood—neither the partners nor love itself. And there arises the paradox of knowing and still living naïve. Love shows itself to you, but still you are far apart from knowing its true abundance. You live in an awareness of not knowing what you do not have, unable to understand that you possess every thing on earth, when you are in love. I heard from someone that the high intensity of desire to talk about love arises from the feeling of not having what you really want (love) on the other hand behind the veil of your ignorance love floods your soul, your self and you dreams; and perhaps it is love itself that veils your vision from the abundance it offers.
Here are another set of i-poems. They are based on the common theme of Love. These poems are not attempts to understand or to define the indefinable. For fulfilling the inevitable task of giving a logical and linguistically apt definition to these poems, I must say they are reflections—reflections or musings on love, just like getting a glimpse of the spring sun with a frowning eye. Nothing more is to be said. These poems are for all those who at least once in their lives, have took the courage to squint at the sun. Yours Lovingly,