I’ve been looking for love in the hollow spaces,

Only to realise those are the wrong places.

I’ve been seeking it in a mortal body,

That mortal love,

Perishes with everybody.

The love that is mortal,

Was never love,

For the real love is a perennial dove.

Fortunate is the one who is mindful of what real love is,

Indomitable,

Invincible,

A beautiful agony it is.

For it takes a lot of strength to love,

It takes the soul to the heights,

No one can get above.

Unmindful ones have that strength,

They find it easier to hate,

They find it easier to grab what’s on their plate,

They don’t do the searching,

They don’t pull their hands out of the glove,

They don’t know how to practice love.

Searching for it the whole time,

Finally I found the greatest love somewhere,

Where even the stones shine,

The weak don’t whine,

The saddest ones laugh,

Nothing is tough,

Even the roughest aren’t rough.

For it’s a place no one has the directions to,

Its location is known but unknown too.

If the real love is searched for,

It’d be found soon,

But if it’s misused,

It can bring doom.

I searched every nook and corner,

Every next place, even warmer.

Hot or cold,

Sweet or sour,

Soft or rough,

It didn’t matter,

Because I had to be tough,

It didn’t matter,

Because I knew what I was about to find was more than enough,

Enough to not regret my life,

Enough to not become a part of hatred that’s rife.

Because finally when I saw it,

I didn’t want anything else,

It was worth every place I decided to roam,

God opened his arms and said

“My Child, COME HOME”.