Thursday, February 11, 2010

It's always about Love

It’s Always about Love
(unfinished lyrics by R.P.Edwards)

It’s always, always, always
About love
It’s never, never, never
About hate
It’s always, always, always
About "give"
It’s never, never, never
About “take”
Oh, that I would be like Thee
To see with eyes
That really…see
To play the part
And the part…is “me”
Reflecting who you are
It’s always, always, always…

“How are you doing!”  “We’re still alive!”

It’s been a melancholy kind of morning.  Part of it came with the waking thought that this evening, when the rest of the world puts a firm “period” at the end of the day’s sentence by crawling beneath the comforter and nestling with their fellow traveler into slumbers gentle renewal; instead I’ll be donning the garb of labor and traveling into the darkness…to nestle with the heartless steel.  So be it.

Next was the transport of my eldest daughter to the local community college.  Quickly approaching the age of eighteen, she, who has been home schooled all her life, thought it best that she get the “official” GED to assuage the fears and consternation of those who look down upon the practice of nurtured learning.  Anyway, this young blossom has a wedding date set for mid-June.  I have tried to delay the tying of the life-long knot, but love is a powerful force.  And, as she resolutely sets her course and destiny I find myself sighing and, like the scene from Disney’s “Little Mermaid,” where King Neptune, before waving his magic trident, he looks softly upon his daughter’s distant gaze at the human she so desperately loves, whose world she cannot be a part of, and he says to his crab companion (Sebastion), “She really does love him.”  And then...release is given, and she walks into another man's arms.  So be it.

Then I went to the dollar store.  Funds are limited and a birthday card was needed.  I noticed that this discount shop had some fine ones for half a buck.  Unlike my beautiful wife, who will travail long to find just the right verse, my standards are more accepting and, in short order, I found one.  However, before exiting the establishment I paused at the “book” shelves.   Here, in a graveyard of ambition and expectation, I saw many a hardback that, although the authors had, no doubt, labored long, arduous hours over; their “children,” once lofty in price and position, were now one step above the shredder.  How the mighty have fallen.  So be it.

Finally, continuing my list of errands, I went to the local grocery store and, as I made my way through the entrance control corridor I heard the words first mentioned at the beginning of this piece.  I didn’t pause to look fully, but out of the corner of my eye I saw two elderly ladies…embracing.  “How are you doing?”  “We’re still alive!”

You know, it all comes down to what’s really important, and that, my friend, is not the title in front of your name, or the zeros in your paycheck, or the tickling of your flesh, or the accolades of your associates.  No, it always, always, always…comes down…to love.

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.

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