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Today is rain cloud imitation. I will tell you about the footprints of a morning when I woke up with the sound of rain. Dripping raindrops are falling from the sky. In front of my window, they make tiny noises as if they were talking from ear to ear. Big and small, they are banging on the windows one after the other, as if they are saying we are here. Do you believe the drops whispering poems? I believed, I kissed every drop letter by letter to my cinema. I close myself to the bustle of the world, and watch the raindrops drift for a long time in awe.
I dive into its course with a wide smile spreading across my face and soul. “This must be what love is,” I say softly. I think about the diversity of love. Pain, anger, peace, happiness. My eyes are full of tears in the pitted ways of my mind. My feet are stuck with the memories of the past time. The bruised knees of my childhood are bleeding again. With raindrops, I press compassion on my wounds. Now I learned that over time, the wounds on the knee caps become crusted. The wounds on the soul covers that do not go away when kissed.
The child who took shelter in his dreams of the sky is like a gray shore next to me. I open the window, the raindrops falling on my face fall on my cheeks, it touches my happiness mixed with sadness like love. I say welcome, welcome to my soul. You know, most of us say, "I wish we could have stayed children", our naive side of those childhood days, when we are ignorant of the world, our steps are flying, our dreams, that is the part of us that does not grow. Our uncontamination so and ah…
I think this is the most missed form of love. We don't want the child inside us to grow up. We worry about what if he stops loving. If you have this concern, know that your heart is still a child. Hopeful enough to love the world, people, animals, grass, bugs, raindrops.
What was it to love?
Was it the warm breeze on a quiet afternoon?
Was it the pictures we drew in our hearts?
Are they far or near?
Was it a life story that started with a smile?
To believe, to trust, to seek shelter?
What was love?
Did love have a smell, color, language, religion?
Oh, to love without effort!
Why was love fed?
Is it safe?
Out of loyalty?
From a sassy smile?
From a comforting glance?
To hide in a body you don't know?
Feeling an unfamiliar smell in your throat every day?
Was it your homeland that you wanted to go but couldn't?
Baby lap warmth? Or was it a father's mercy?
Was it a gasp of resistance?
We are going through silly times, when no one sees anyone's sadness, when selfishness seems friendly. I think for a moment that we are giving up on love. While watching the rain from the window, I make my eyes my temple when a sparrow scurrying on the window sill. I say no, this is love. Even though there are those who make human nature ugly, loving was the timid silence of the sparrow that made my eyes a temple. Love came to me. My mind was starting to fill up with unformable concepts and I loved the rain as I struggled against contradictory rules. To the rush of the sparrow that makes my eyes home. It was five or ten minutes for the world to get along with a tiny sparrow behind the foggy window and beautify it.
Loving was the sound of two wings clinging to my eyelashes, I didn't want it to go away. It was touches from yesterday, it was hope for tomorrow. It was to feel the moment to my bones. No need to look for a reason to love. Heart-loving chemistry agrees. Some of us say 'it is from its essence'. It was human's weakness to love.
To love was “a seed looking blue from under rocks” with love.
Flowers in pots, birds on the window sill, drapes on the coffee table, fragrant coffee with lots of ground coffee, tea in a thin-waisted glass, cook on the stove, children's voices, a delicate song on the radio that caresses the soul, a poem with a reunion, a wound in the heart that bleeds as you breathe, me in the mirror, it's you. .
Call it LOVE, call it MERCY, call it whatever you say. I say to love, my dear, the greatest blessing offered to mankind...