Love

What is it, really—actually?
What does it reveal, gradually?
Is it something we practice annually,
Or accordingly?

But what is love? Can someone help me
Understand its meaning,
So that I can gain a deeper understanding?
Some say it is an animal—
Is it a reptile or a mammal?

A wise man once said it’s a myth.
My father once told me it is care,
But I asked him: is it physical,
Or is it emotional care?

That is why a well-known seer once said:
Love is rare, because it can blind your eyes.
I now understand why Valentino Rose once said:
"If you find it, make sure it grows older."
For if you allow it to penetrate your veins
And your mind, it can become bolder.

But love is openness—more than the openness
Of our eyes and bodies.
It is the openness of two hearts,
Attached and united to each other.

Love is being open—not the practice
Of opening your heart randomly to everyone,
But being open only to your partner.

Love is also loyalty,
As loyalty is the backbone of it.
Love is vigilant, too,
As lovebirds must have the ability,
The courage,
To walk proudly together.

Love can also be extraordinary.
People often mistake love for the word "like."
But when you love something,
You nurture it every day,
Caring for it fully.
But when you like something,
You take it thoughtlessly,
Without considering its needs or desires.

Yes, love is beautiful,
And must be practiced with caution.
For love is lovely,
And war is ugly.