Throughout the centuries that have feen fortunate enough to be mapped in words, there have always been people to ponder the subject of love. So many profound, or not so, things have been said about it. What would poetry be without love? Death and religion. And isn't that a bleak image. Love is the cornerstone of human existence, whether it is the reason for our beliefs, our hate, conflicts or deeds.
I don't believe that love can ever truly perish. Even when the hormones inside one's body stop producing the endorfines and the chemicals don't add up to create the sparks, the imprint of love stays in our minds. I find the expression "stay in my heart" misleading. Maybe I am too much of a visual person but I certainly don't see thoughts pumping through my aorta. It is in the realms of the imaginary that we store thoughts and memories and ultimately, the feeling of love. It should be "stay in my mind", because it is the mind that is the ultimate source of our existence.
It is when one stands in the theatre of his own life, just after he's done watching a superb love tragedy, that they realize they're not getting an encore. The show doesn't always have to go on. But the echo of the applause will ring in our mind's till another, louder one replaces it.
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