John Keats, my all time favorite poet, opens one of his odes with "My
heart aches..." and I can never overpower and avoid the immensely deep
pain and agony behind this," My heart aches". Why does it favor pain and
not pleasure? Why does this heart, a fleshy jelly like substance,
become a home of melancholy & happiness? The only answer I come up
with is not simple nor complex but strange and it is that when you fall
in love; you are gullible and vulnerable to feeling all types of aching
and you know what this fleshy substance is not just mere flesh. It is a
powerhouse mirror in which all relationships and memories, all
sensations and feelings and especially all the regrets can be seen and
viewed anytime either in loneliness or with others. The images formed in
the mirrors are not always pleasant and thus there comes a stage when
an individual cries, ah my heart aches.
Love is like a wild child
who's going nuts or similar to a horse outrunning everything and
becoming dangerously out of control, and the irony becomes more evident
in the way most people fall in love and end either losers or drunk heads
with heap of regrets and bad memories in their mirror of heart. Suppose
a person who fell in love with a girl and their love kissed the skies
of passion and emotion as they roamed in gardens and libraries writing
stories of this amazing relationship on leafs of all trees, roads,
people I mean everything everyone they come across. They share warmth
and sincerity, kisses and hugs and even talk on phone about sex,
romance, humor, religion etc. One cannot imagine living without the
other and then the vicious wheel of fate plays its incisive move, due to
any reason for example economical problem or consent of their relatives
they are forced to separate and bound not to see one another again.
The
girl moves on and finds another guy and is happy now and the poor guy ,
the pathetic soul whose heart received most of the sweet memories are
in shock and cannot forget the images that were carved on the mirror of
his heart. Everyday he feels agony and everyday he regrets and shouts
out loud, ah my heart ached, ah it feels the pain of the love and lover I
have lost. This is just one of the billion similar stories in which one
person ends with pain and that happens just because he/she was sincere
and therefore was an instant victim of Love. This is just a simple
result of mishandling the wild horse of love.
This is what John
Keats felt hundreds of years ago, and this is what all those who are
betrayed by their lovers, cheated by their closed ones and slaughtered
by being sincere and honest feel today and everyday a new story rises.
My heart also aches and feels pain and cries out loud for someone who
carved images of sweet memories on my mirror and the amazing passion of
love smiles over passively.
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