They sing, those voices in the sunlight, humming of a brightness that shines within love's embrace. They speak of a nectar, a sweet-flowing honey that fills our souls and leaves us whole and satisfied, forever finding that next bliss.
Love, they say, is a savior, a kind guide who offers us all, a generous giver that enriches our sanity and leaves us healed and happy in its wake. It mends our hearts, covers the scars beneath, and delights in the joy it bestows.
A friend, yes, a loyal one that brings the peace to our lives, replaces it with a soothing calm and a trust that lasts like the scent of flowers. It leaves us full, content with the sweetness we now know, savoring the flavor of something, everything, that might offer comfort.
And yet, despite its wings and halo, its gentle hums and warming promises, we fear it. We fear love with a hesitation born of a primal wound, a dread of rejection that dims brighter than any joy.
Is it the brief sparks of pain that scare us away, the fleeting moments of agony that make the brightness unbearable? Or is it the threat of betrayal, the hum of a darkness that lurks beyond the joy, a despair that waits even as we soar through the light?
For love is a paradox, a twisted creature that embodies both beauty and terror. It is a force that can elevate us to the highest peaks of joy, then cast us down into the abyss of despair. It is a storm that can both nourish and destroy, a wildfire that leaves fertile ground in its wake.
So they may sing their praises, those voices in the light, but we will continue to flee from love, even knowing the rewards. For within its embrace lies the potential for both the greatest joy and the greatest pain, and that, perhaps, is the most terrifying and exhilarating truth of all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem