Monday, September 8, 2008

What is love?

What is love?
Only a sickness
But in sickness is
Where you find life
Your mother got sick
You came to this world.
You are a product of love.
So am I.
Shame if this fire
Ever gets extinguished.


A tree gets sick.
Sheds its leaves every fall,
Just like that nice lady
On Chemotherapy.
Gets bald.
She goes through the pain.
Pain of cold, pain of dryness
Every winter.
So she can bring us fruite every summer.
So she can make seeds.
And fill the orchard with baby trees.


A rock doesn't multiply
Becomes smaller and smaller .
Without replacing itself
With another bigger one
Another better one.
Rock is not a lover.
Even if she wants to love.
She doesn't want pain
There is no love without pain.
Either both, or nothing.



No comments: