Wind. A breeze. The quiet promise of a starry night sky. A woman. A windy breeze blowing under a starry night sky carries upon its wings the quiet promise of a woman.
Who has looked into a woman’s eyes and seen her soul? Who has held her and felt the reverberations of her thoughts? Who has conversed with her and understood the inner machinations of her heart?
Which man has kissed her lips and not felt his heartstrings snap? Which fiery hearted lover while ensnared in her embrace hasn’t felt fleetingly a slice of paradise? And in so doing, hasn’t he for the slimmest breath of a second perchance…glimpsed the color of love?
Like a river after the rains, love flows, over flows, swells its banks and we like so much sand are swept into its murky depths to lose our dignity, the very fabric of our independence in pursuit of another human being. A person, who most often as not doesn’t appreciate the fact. One whom by utter ignorance or petty prejudice disregards and belittle the courage we have shown.
But that is to be expected.
Who being loved has ever understood the sacrifice made in loving them? Who being loved knows why? Who being loved doesn’t take for granted the affection shown them? Who being loved has ever looked deep into themselves and questioned if they deserve to be loved?
The color of love is one so true as to be next to impossible to find. Why? It finds us when we least expect and eludes us when we need it most.
Alas when it finds us!
Which meal, eaten, has ever tasted as sweet? What manner of musical note, having been listened to, has ever rang so pure and true? Which drink, drunk, quenches all thirst?
What color…in the whole world…possesses hues as vivid as to rival the color of love.