If I am truly ‘in’ love,
then I can’t know of it.
If I just now know I am in love,
then I am currently not in that love,
for I am imminently a bystander,
aware of it as a preoccupation
and not sourced in the blooming of it.
Awareness of this love
is like standing on the train platform
and not actually the motion of riding on the train.
For me being, ‘in’ love means
I don’t know the train exists.
If I am aware that I am in love,
at that moment,
I am more like a ticket holder
waiting for the conductor’s punch,
or like a sharp-eyed observer of the sky,
but more anecdotal of the view
than emanative of being,
or more made of postcard material
featuring a forest for a scene
and less like an actual tree growing.
In fact I can’t actually be 'IN’ love,
for love like what I mean has no boundaries.
That I am always ‘IN’ love
and yet somehow distant from it,
is more of the truth
I am perplexed by and pondering.
If this is coming to you
only as language to be understood,
then I am only a messenger.
If what I am saying to you,
you only fully understand
then we, are both waiting for the same train.
Even now, it is a train, we are already on,
but don’t know the tug, sway and glide of that fluidity.
Love is a lot like that,
as if love as the train,
is not of self-consciousness
and thus, once on,
to never ever get off . . .