Few will argue, some will
say,
Love happens to all at some time,
Some may swim the seven seas,
Some just make it worth their while.
The first kind of a lover
they believe,
Is the one with a girl on either side,
Often the stock is gleefully refreshed,
Giggling bimbettes with insensate minds.
The second, they state is
the one,
Who writes poems and carves dreams,
To his lady love, his soul is devoted,
His life is the way she foresees.
The third, they insist is of
sensible kind,
Who throws away whatever is futile,
Selects those few who walk his way,
And settles with the one who follows behind.
The fourth, is the cursed
lover,
Who is so caught in the complexities of life,
Love for him is nothing but alien,
His time too precious, and he - too wise.
The fifth is overwhelmed
with love,
Love that adorns his possessions and might,
That resides in a material territory,
A human heart, oblivious to sight.
I probe and ponder, Fall
back and revise,
Love for the insensate, love for the wise?
I assert, unconcerned of what they decide,
Either you've never loved,
Or loved all your life.
~Gursimran~
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Gursimran
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