This woman, who wore an expression not unlike the one when a writer penned down the last letter to his masterpiece would find it hard to suppress, stood in her backyard next to the railroad with her baby, I suppose, in her arms came into view. She swayed gently and talked to the infant in such a way as if she was doing it an introduction to the train that pulled out of the station.
I suppose that if I had snatched that moment with my seldom used camera it would be a hell of a picture, one that's worthy to be put on the desktop as a remainder of the love that exists and surrounds us, of something worth fighting for. I also suppose that everyone is doing precisely the same thing, conscious or unconsciously, which ironically produces, or takes a part in its making, something called conflicts.
Ironic, eh? The child of love is conflict, this is where the arithmetic fails to reflect the reality, it's but abstraction. One plus one equals two, but love plus love equals not greater love but conflicts which in turn bring about destruction, death and the negation of love itself. Lives are ruined, hearts grow weary and peace is unattainable for everyone is dead focused on giving the best to their loved ones, or sometimes just the minimum survival. Again, we see that 1 the best for the loved ones plus 1 the best for the loved ones equals not 2 bests for the loved ones, but conflict, a struggle to get the upper hand so mine gets the best or gets to live. Well, we're not saying that there's anything wrong with fighting with your kids or whoever on your mind, hey we're all just doing it! but just that this alone attains not peace.
I suppose that if I had snatched that moment with my seldom used camera it would be a hell of a picture, one that's worthy to be put on the desktop as a remainder of the love that exists and surrounds us, of something worth fighting for. I also suppose that everyone is doing precisely the same thing, conscious or unconsciously, which ironically produces, or takes a part in its making, something called conflicts.
Ironic, eh? The child of love is conflict, this is where the arithmetic fails to reflect the reality, it's but abstraction. One plus one equals two, but love plus love equals not greater love but conflicts which in turn bring about destruction, death and the negation of love itself. Lives are ruined, hearts grow weary and peace is unattainable for everyone is dead focused on giving the best to their loved ones, or sometimes just the minimum survival. Again, we see that 1 the best for the loved ones plus 1 the best for the loved ones equals not 2 bests for the loved ones, but conflict, a struggle to get the upper hand so mine gets the best or gets to live. Well, we're not saying that there's anything wrong with fighting with your kids or whoever on your mind, hey we're all just doing it! but just that this alone attains not peace.
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