Love is a many-splendored thing, so goes the song. And it might be right. Poets and writers and artists and philosophers and skeptics of different ages have attempted to define the concept and examine the nature and purpose of love. But can one really fully grasp its meaning? Can one really have the slightest understanding of a force so strong and so capable without being shaken and moved and changed by it? Can one really come close to defining it without having one's own definition altered once he gets to see what it really IS? What if love is not meant to be defined, and that love is actually a meaning on its own, a purpose on its own: incomprehensible yet fully known, infinite yet fully tangible, multifaceted yet one concrete whole?
Ah, love is a many-splendored things! And it is meant to be experienced and demonstrated.
Happy hearts day! :)
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