But how many of us can stand up
And take life in its infinite grayness?
It is a gateway to realization and gradual.
One can see in many forms.
To visions of generations of beauty.
This view is irrespective of externalities.
One gives importance to vanity of intellect, a violent break.
But that love which is love on the apparent, a myriad joy,
Can inner be a rotting passion,
Giving rise to petty personal clashes,
Especially when the ego dictates the falsities.
In action to either counterpart.
Only such a love develops to unconditional light,
Surpasses the storms through a lifetime of torment and testing,
This love does not spring forth from all and sundry to their wife.
This love is not possible to create as a circumstance,
This love has not boundaries of tolerance,
This love is love itself and has these characteristics.
There is only contentment from both sides,no rabid joy.
Knowing well that the world wallows in pleasing and making happy.
And in conforming and performing.
Each aspect being an important part of the whole.
One being not there, ends in dissatisfaction.