The Love Intermission

 

Somewhere on the shores of a lake here in Kenya

Sometimes, 

When drunk with love and are petrified by its numbness

When you can't answer to your name

And the world is zigging in a stupor

When only you and some other one crazy person make sense,

Think about these things,

Yes, think about these things...

Love has a voice. 

If it whispers, you will know;

And when it shouts, you will hear.

It penetrates the hardest of hearts and breaks the greatest of walls

Its voice has wings like winds

You may not know when you breathe it in,

Or when it broke right in,

But you will sure know when you are under its curse.

You will.

Love should not be burden, 

But it is a good load of dreadful sweet things.

It's a mixture of pain and pleasure,

Of lying to yourself and suffering a resuscitation,

Of cycles of sacrifice and receiving,

But never a burden.

Once it's on that road of burdening you,

The both of you, or just one of you

Sit yourselves down - 

You and your other one crazy person - 

Then sober it up.

It's time for an intermission.

It's time for an unburdening.

It's time for love to be set free from all the pressures 

And all the expectations.

And all the imperfections of lazy power,

Of the lazy power of burdened love.

Love should not be rushed.

Let me ask you this: do you rush life?

Can you live tomorrow before its time?

Do you tell your 70th year, "Aaah, I'll skip the 40th and 50th and 60th and come right-at-ya o 70th"?

You don't.

Like life, love should be let to be.

If it grows, it has grown.

If doesn't, it hasn't.

If you put in the work and it doesn't grow, let it be.

Especially if you haven't met some other one crazy person who feels the same.

Let it be.

You're not meant to force love.

You're not meant to rush God.

You're not meant to force God.

God is love.

Don't rush both.

Love is not pressure.

It is your other other crazy person's right to be loved, 

But it is not anyone's right to tell you how to do it.

Because when two crazy people meet and agree to fall in love, 

The internet is not there.

In-laws are not there.

Pastors are not there.

Your boss is not there.

Friends are not there.

Parents are not there.

The church is not there.

Some deranged alumni-squad is not there.

It's just two crazy people agreeing to enjoy each other's take on life.

The only one present is God (and perhaps that sneaky angel called satan).

There shouldn't be pressure to maintain such a simple and beautiful thing.

There shouldn't.

Love is like a garden.

One which shouldn't be tilled before its time.

Lest we arouse weeds,

Weeds we cannot upluck,

And weeds we cannot praise.

While in the solitudinous angst of love,

Always remember that God is a Gardener that only tends those in His garden

He doesn't intrude on those who haven't accepted Him to be who He says He is.

So when you take time to gauge whether love is growing where it's being sowed 

Or it's dead, or withered, or bored,

Also take time to learn from Him on how to tend it

You will reap handsomely.

And finally...

Love needs time.

Time to reflect upon it, and time for it to be itself;

Somewhere in between and somewhere along the way,

It requires that you take time and unravel it

Take time and allow it to punch you in the gut - to smite you right in your resolve

Take time for you to quiver in the weight of its glory, 

Time to understand the measure of its strength,

Time to decipher its unbelievableness,

Time to tremble at its call,

Time to enjoy its reality,

Time to see if its time to call it mature.

Love needs time for it to be itself.

Friend,

Take a moment today and think about the things that make or break your loves

Those intermittent sporadic airs of importunity 

Those may just be what you need to get it right. 

Love is not when you get all you want, but when you give all you have. - Otunga, circa 2022.

Morris 2.0