VALENTINE’S DAY RAMBLINGS

I wrote this yesterday, but I am in the mist of a long spell of my internet not working so only got to an internet cafe today to post it.

Have you ever wondered where unrequited love goes? Love is energy and energy can’t be created or destroyed, or so I’m told. How unfortunate the same does not apply to fears and dreams… fears can’t be created and dreams can’t be destroyed. Oh well… If love given by one is not accepted by another, where does it go then? Maybe wind is a byproduct of this refusal. I mean, how is wind created anyway? I must’ve missed that episode of the Discovery Channel. But why couldn’t wind in all its forms be unrequited love? The strong gales with the power to uproot huge Oak trees might originate from the anguished wails of a million spurned lovers raising their voices in a crescendo of cries in unison. Or the steady gusts that fill the sails of boats could possibly be a thousand broken hearted people chanting, “But I love them so much!” over and over in a perpetual rhythm that propels those ships to their holiday destinations. And those light breezes on Indian Summer days that make kites dance in the air and send brown leaves on acrobatic tumbles down streets perhaps are the long final sighs of hundreds whose head has finally convinced their heart to give up hope. That sudden draft which causes a shiver to run along your spine and recall old wives’ tales is only the small escape of air from the lips of a single forgotten lover who is trying to suppress their wretched sobs for the umpteenth time. Then again, it’s entirely possible that earthquakes are the end result. All that pounding of pillows in sorrow might be felt more acutely along fault lines triggering a seismic reaction.

On the other hand, I could be looking at this all wrong. Maybe love begets love. It is highly likely that the love someone rejects finds its way to the souls of small children and puppies and that’s why it is so easy for them to love unconditionally. It could even attach itself to the hands of grandmothers and that is the secret ingredient we can never duplicate in their special recipes. Now that I think about it, does unrequited love even exist? Love doesn’t shatter when the door is closed in your face and it surely doesn’t whither between the pages of a returned unread love letter. Love, in its purest form is never any less beautiful when it misses its intended mark. I guess some of us have to wait a little longer than others to see the results of where it’s landed… or we get pets.