Is it wrong to dream for a love that would hold you when you own spirit should decide to abandon your soul? Is it wrong to hope for the blissful surrender to that emotion so strong, it leaves you breathless and at the same time longing for more? Is it wrong to believe in love that's pure and selfless, one so steadfast and committed it sees your flaws to its utter disgusting form yet is still willing to embrace you to the zeal of a heart-beat? Is it wrong to long for that someone who will hold your hand with as much passion and ardor when your hands were still perfect and smooth as jades, soft and graceful as the petals of the lotus flower until they become twisted, trembling, wrinkled and gnarled as grotesque knobs of old age? Is it wrong to wish for a heart that could see you in the light where you truly shine and not your stains that nails your guilt on an eternal plaque, stating you are a hopeless child of sin? Is it wrong to yearn for the breath of heaven to caress your trite and despairing flesh, to kiss your stray and trodden senses, to refresh your dried and parched up emotions? Is it wrong to cling to the sweet glorious promise that there is somebody for everyone?
Is it wrong? Is it a sin? Is it foolishness? Is it madness? Is it profligacy? Is it idiocy? Is it cold-blooded stupidity? We all must be fools, then.
Such foolishness it is to desperately grope and grasp for that sweet soothing balm of faith after being drowned in the nightmare of reality. Such stubborn foolishness it is to keep on reaching for that pair of arms to hold you in night's sheerest depth. Such insanity it is to turn your ears to that melody that fiddles all wellness and sublimity in your heart's furnace. Such madness it is to believe that there is an angel with a crippled wing looking for you to make him/her whole so you could both soar up to the timeless ecstasy of amity and love. Such stupidity it is to waste figments of profound imagery fashioning a burning desire to satisfy that intrinsic carnal and spiritual hunger that oftentimes knocks us in reeling daze and staggering amazement. Such doomed folly it is to offer perpetual prayers along the chain of breaths that caress your life to have possession of that lustrous, fluttering butterfly kisses, enthralling yet chaste. Such astounding madness it is to fantasize of walking forever in fields of carnations and getting soaked under a shower of sunflowers and sweet smelling roses.
Should I bow my head in shame because I'm forever shackled to such senseless madness and pointless longing? Should I offer a requiem for love night after hopeless night? Should I cast down my banner of faith and burn it to ashes and trample on my every dream? Should I kill every arrow of delight that would sear my soul every time I'd inhale the sweet intoxicating scent of flowers? Should I cower back in the shadow every time warm blessed sunshine would touch my ashen being and forever rot in the dampness and the nipping cold fangs of loneliness?
I'd give up countless of eternal freedom to be bound and shackled to the reckless madness. I'd give up life to forever float in the stream of dreams where I'd be truly happy and be plunged in perfect sublime. I'd give up every substantial tangible possession and superb indifferent reason I have to be forever lying on my back on a field of grass, tracing stars under the cool twilight of the velvet heavens. I'd give up my existence than give up these dreams.
