Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Once I and She had it., we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches I found that we were never a tree and I am still alone.
Nobody can hear my intense feelings...
8 comments:
i had to use a dictionary for that... good mr mittal... keep it up
Dear thank you. at leat you read what i wrote.....
abe sala, itni badi def kyun likhi ,, some one has already pumped all this shit in to a single line " LOve is Blind"
Mr Narendra you are right but its not just a defenition but my intense feelings also.....
abe oye mittal ,, tu apna prakhar hai na ,, mr narendra kya likh raha hai be ,, sal pehchana nahi kya , pant hun kamine main
OK bhai jaan........ Aage se ye galti nahi hogi
"Love can be described in a million different ways but nothing beats experiencing it."
its really good prakhi i just impressed with your writing keep it up....
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