The power to
Love is God's greatest gift to man,
For it never will be taken from the
Blessed one who loves.
Love lies in the soul alone,
not in the body, and like wine
Should stimulate our better self
To welcome gifts of Love Divine.
Man cannot real love until after sad and revealing seperation, and bitter patience, and desperate hardship.
Yesterday I stood at the temple door interrogating the passersby about the mystery and merit of love.
And before me passed an old man with an emaciated and melancholy face, who sighned and said:
"Love is a natural weakness bestowed upon us by the first man."
But a virile youth restored:
"Love joins our present with the past and the future."
Then a woman with a tragic face sighed and said:
"Love is deadly poison injected by black vipers, that crawl from the caves of hell. The poison seems fresh as first intoxication the drinker sickens and dies a slow death."
Then a beautiful, rosy-cheeked damsel smilingly said: "Love is a wine served by the brides of Dawn which strengthens strong sould and enables them to ascend to the stars."
After her a black-robed, beared man, frowning, said: "Love is the blind ignorance with which youth begins and ends."
Another, smiling, declared:
"Love is a divine knowlede that enables men to see as much as the gods."
Then said a blind man, feeling his way with a cane:
"Love is a blinding mist that keeps the sould from discerning the secret of existence, so that the heart sees only trembling phantoms of desire among the hills, and hears only echoes of cries from voiceless valleys."
And a feeble ancient, dragging his feet like two rags, said, in quavering tones:
"Love is the rest of the body in the quiet of the grave, the tranquility of the soul in the depth of Eternity."
And a five-year old child, after him, said laughing: "Love is my father and mother and no one knows Love save my father and mother."
And so, all who passed spoke of Love as the image of their hopes and frustrations, leaving it a mystery as before.
Those whom Love has not chosen
as followers do not hear when Love calls.
Love is the only flower that grows and blossoms
without the aid of seasons.
Love is the only freedom in the world because it so elevates the spirit that the laws of humanity and the phenomena of nature do not alter its course.
Love passes by us, robed in meekness; but we flee from her in fear, or hide in the darkness; or else pursue her, to do evil in her name.
Love that comes between the naivete and awakening of youth satisfies itself with possessing, and grows with embraces. But Love which is born in the firmament's lap and has descended with the night's secrets is not contented with anything but Eternity and immortality; it does not stand reverently before anything except deity.