Nothing tragic about it.

Does love know to be more than tragic.
Does it know to be blessed and giving unconditional.
Neither tragic in death.
Nor painful when unrequited.
Is love not kind, a feeling so absorbing so gentle
that it cares to shield ones heart,
that it cares to carefully tread on ones logic,
carefully tippy toe round uncertainty.
Is love not ones friend, no matter where or when it decides to comfortably settle in ones being
making itself at home, serene?
Does it not banish cruelty, tears, lies intrigue and games painful, unfathomable?
And if love be true and death does a beloved steal
then why it pain so...

how fair is love...?

Why care to try and understand it. Best to revel in the grace of love.
Best to surrender to the blessings of knowing to love.
Best to surrender to the blessings of being loved.

Love is not meant to be criticised
nor explained with logical thought.

Love has no master but, has many servants.

Love is a thief yet, giving at the same time
it defines itself in all things living
it breaths.
It is memory.
It is experience.
It is eternal.
Even when ones emotions and feelings are numbed with time
for it will tingle and echo
somewhere deep deep
and it will call again
and one will hanker
for nothing be more rewarding than

...love.

RB.