How to love maturely without falling back into the mystical trap of illusion

  Sometimes the night greets me with a strange sensation — not so much pain as a question , one that slips into the periphery of my thoughts like a light unsure of whether it wishes to remain. After every disappointment there arrives this moment: the moment when you no longer ask “Why did it happen?” but begin to listen to a quieter, almost prayerful inner register: “How can it not happen again?” Not as self-blame. Not as fear of falling once more. But as the desire to learn to love without breaking apart, without turning love into a field where your own shadows outweigh the light. I write these lines as if in a diary, though I’m not entirely sure whether I’m speaking to myself, to time, or to that invisible presence I sometimes call soul , sometimes God , and sometimes simply my own inner ground . Here I want to gather not rules, but orientations; not boundaries, but supports; not prohibitions, but quiet, almost invisible paths toward maturity. Paths that do not reject the myst...

But is there anyone to hear?

 

Little one, it follows its inner guide,
But what fate awaits it, what will betide?
Self-destruction... a sorrowful theme,
Yet nature rebalances, it may seem.
For her, no sadness, no right or wrong,
She acts by her principles, steadfast and strong.
If only we sensed them within our core,
We wouldn't unleash what we deplore.
Humanity, with its flawed understanding,
Afflicts the planet, it's alarming.
We kill ourselves, pollute our source,
Yet nature simply reflects our course.
Will we heed the symptoms she displays?
Realize our interconnected ways?
Recognize the need for responsibility,
For everything is like the body's ability.
The physical body, it has its bound,
After showing symptoms, all around,
If not treated, problems persist,
And like the body, it ceases to exist.
So too with Earth, the signs are clear,
But is there anyone to hear?

 


 

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