Meditation on Love

Meditation on Love long poem

I would be unhappy
if I foolishly thought you loved me
I know you do not
Love is not love
if not found in intention and motive
but only in words
as the latter gets carried out
in action and becomes a part of one’s character
while the former will remain only as what they are/it is, mere words
I can be happy
if I rest in my love for you
thinking that is genuine
but one has to dig deeper
in love is it love of self
at being able to love
that makes one feel one loves?
can one really love selflessly?
is it about having less of self love mixed in
a question of degrees?
age old questions….
i know one thing
love between man and woman
is based on the senses
what the eyes see
what the ears hear
what one imagines
one desires more of
more of touch
more of knowing the person
of taste and smell
a journey, an exploration
a discovery
a wanting of a common history
a quest and an adventure
a very gambling of one’s foundations, already shaky
what does one search for
in this small space –
not in the bigger
love of saints for all?
is it something missing
or yet to be found?
something lost?
or some gain or profit?
or loss?
if one is seeking to be loved
then love is selfish
if one seeks to find happiness in loving
then love is still selfish
but less so
all this man has discovered
but how does one discover the key
to a deeper happiness
where one loves
expecting nothing in return
demanding nothing
not even that happiness
that comes from loving, from knowing, being known, intimately, becoming one?
where that love is only a natural outpouring of what one is
and one can do it without getting bitter or growing tired or getting destroyed?
how does one find that kind of love?
i do not know
any more than you do
what is love?
whatever it is
it takes up a lifetime
at the end of which
realized or not
what use is it?
no idea
this must be
the cloud of unknowing
the dark night of the soul
the ascent to the divine
it is so agonizing
one could not have imagined
that it is accompanied with such piercing
maybe there is something wrong with it
maybe it is not love at all
but only an illusion
sweet and hurting
giving one suffering and giving one happiness
whatever it is
it takes up all one’s time
and life
to come to its end
and perhaps not discover it
or find it was not worth it
or else
to find
it was worth it, after all….

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Ampat Koshy

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I write, get it read by one or two people, then forget all about it and write the next thing. I'm addicted to writing, my form of ocd, mpd and logorrhea, self adulatory drug induced world of hallucinatory emission... Please help me with money for my autism project.
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archana sharma
archana sharma

Very well written..
The meaning of love is not easy to understand and the poet has described it beautifully


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