Saturday, January 29, 2005

The Power of Love

The Power of Love

When men fall in love, they don't always behave logically. A man will do stupid things for the woman he loves. A man in love is one who is blessed and cursed at the same time. The love of a woman is a powerful force--it can spur a man to the most glorious of victories or condemn him to the most miserable of sorrows.

If only women knows how to wield this weapon called love wisely, they will certain control the world, if they have not already. But fortunately for men, the cunning of women is rooted in emotion; the more devious ones are capable of manipulating men instinctively but very few understand the machinations behind this powerful force, and thus fail to wield the weapon in a strategic manner. And thus, men are spared the dominion of women.

Men, in their more sober moments, posess the cunning of foxes. But they are often blinded by their ego, their pride in power and posession and the instinctive lust for the female flesh. It is all well and fine if they are aware exactly as to why they are going after women with so much zeal and madness but when a man is in love, he is such a confused mixed of all these different impulses--he is at his most pathetic and vulnerable.

Thus both men and women, lunge headlong into each other, with the desperation and helplessness of lost children. Love becomes a wild roller-coaster ride of emotional peaks and troughs; and more often than not ends despair, for love promises so much, yet inevitably hurts, simply because we fail to comprehend its power.

But still we struggle on, for we tell ourselves that the promises of love is worth all its pain, and we go after it as if there's an itch in our souls that only love itself can soothe, and a thirst that only it can quench.

Love at is purest, is like sunlight. But we do not posess the wisdom to harness this light. Instead, we lunge at it like doomed nocturnal moths, with an emotional savagery, with a steely death wish in our eyes.

We've never understood this force called love. Perhaps we never will. And so we, men and women, resign ourselves to live or to die by its all-consuming fire.

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