A Love Story

I got to read Bom's blog with Jim Paredes' article. I was astounded by the women that he had in his life. Not because of the number of women that came by, but of the lessons that he learned with them.

It was not that long ago when I wished I could write my own story. I have read stories of love. Watched movies about love. Heard stories about love. To every relationship that I have come across, I was just a spectator. I have had my own comments... good or bad. Advices.. that which some have come unsolicited. I had a say. And that it had always been easy telling them what to do, or thinking upon yourself what could've they done.. or pretending to be in that position, and acting upon it readily as if I were on their shoes. It has always been different. And it has always been easier said than done. Definitely, easier said than done...

The latest love story that I have come across was that of a man who came across two flowers at the same garden. These flowers were lined up in a stream of pots. In all shades and hues... The first that came to sight had been his favorite. Red Rose. Beautiful, in its full bloom. The other flower was a Violet Lilium. He didn't know what it was called. It just came to him in passing, as the flower bowed its head not showing the true beauty of its petals. The others were ordinary that he didn't come to notice.

He roamed around the garden and then came back to the rose to which he was attracted the most. He was mesmerized by the beauty of the rose that he examined every part of it. The pollen. Its petals. And leaves. He wanted to pick the flower, although tempting, he refused since the thorns protruding its stem threatened him to be pricked. He, then, watched the flower from afar and appreciated the beauty of the flower.

But there came a time that he was no longer happy that he could not touch the flower. He risked being hurt, went thru the thorns, and came to pick the rose. How lovely it was for them to be together now. Even if the thorns still bespeak of danger or of unrelenting susceptibility to pain, he still continued to pursue his love for the flower. It was hard, however, he reveled in the joy of risking.. There was no other flower anyway, not any flower that he knew of.

It has been years since the man has nurtured his love for the rose. He took care of it. Sprinkled with love. Showered it with rays of sunshine. He was still avoiding the threats of the thorns. But after some time, he began to slowly lose his love for the flower. He was tired. He did not feel that he can love the flower fully because of its thorns. He felt that it was now an obligation to take care of the rose. The rose did not speak of any pain. It fully submitted to the love of the man. Though it cannot defend itself from the thorns, the sacrifice to live with the man for as long as it can, made it bloom further than it has ever imagined itself blooming.

He was not falling out of love with the beauty of the rose. He was still taking care of it. He still loves the radiance it brings. But he felt empty at times. He felt that his love was coming out of guilt. Or of a commitment that he swore he'd keep. It was not good. Then he came back to the garden where he found the rose. He walked for a while, then it came across the lilium that still bowed her beautiful violet petals amongst its leaves. The man was curious and he came to give a closer look to that flower. Only then he realized the beauty of a lilium. Gazing up at him, its glow spread outward.. exuding a scent of joy... of happiness that reverberated through his body. He examined it yet again, and slowly, he began to fall for the lilium. It was lovely. The beauty illuminates a certain fragrance that lived darkly in its body.

Yet he thought, he could not take care of two flowers. The pot that he made was for one. Only one flower can fit in. Now he thought to risk the place that he had made for the rose... and pick the lilium and plant it to the pot. But the beauty of the rose will just die without defenses. It won't die a natural cause of death. It will die because of a love that was lost. Then, the lilium was still there, bowing its head... waiting to be picked..

The ending has not yet been known. For now, the rose still holds the pot. And the lilium has been one with the others...

Love at the wrong time. Love that was so true, but a mistake. It is painful to call a love a mess. Contradictory to its meaning, love is a strong positive emotion... with relevance to an energy that sustains a powerful state of happiness... and joy. But to all the good comes in the bad. Love is a choice. Love is a choice to do the right.. Or to do what we desire. Neither of the two is of lower value.

Love at the wrong time is love that is lost. Some may take the risk of leaving the now to revel in the joy of the future. Some, as most take, risk of leaving a probable future, because the odds does not give them any reassurance of happily-ever-after. But who knows? Nobody knows what the future holds. It has always been a great idea not to keep the doors closed. However, for how long can we? Can we hold it further without anyone come knocking besides that person you've been waiting for all along?

Yes it is true that we meet better people in our lives. Better flowers... More beautiful. More radiant. But how long do we keep ourselves from being tempted to pick another flower? How long do we keep finding which is better without even starting to pick? Opportunity only comes once. We may never find another flower like it..

Love is a risk. Love is pain. Love is love. We learn how to love. We love to learn.

I love you. My heart can only wait for as long as it can. I hope you come back at the right time.

-- violet

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Always On Your Side - Sheryl Crow Ft. Sting

My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side

Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
But my demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought I'd be
To afraid to hear the world's I'd always feel
Leavin' you with all the questions all these years

Is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No, it isn't how it's really meant to be

Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side

Is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are we left to wonder, all alone, eternally
But is this how it's really meant to be?
no, this isn't how it's really meant to be

Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away,
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
Was it you that kept me wandering through this life
When you know that I was always on your side?

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A Prayer

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I pray that God bestows me what my heart desires. On the right time. My faith has strongly believed that things are meant to last only if they deserved them well.

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