Love is

an

experience.

 

Love is,

experience.

 

Love

is

Life.

 

Life;

experience.

 

You can

take it or

leave it

but that 

won’t ever stop it

from being true.

 

You can’t stop it

from

finding you;

make you second guess

any false sense

of pride in you,

it’s what it’s

supposed to do.

 

Make you stop

look

and listen

to what’s been 

internally missing,

question the rhythmic 

beat of

the thing

that pumps

purpose

through your veins.

 

“If all I’ve

fought to take

is taken…

would I be happy 

still

if it were only I

that

remains?”

 

In that moment

you second guess

whether

or

not

you’re insane;

for beginning

to unlock

self-made

chains.

 

“Maybe…

it isn’t just

about

me…”

 

Is it

delirium 

in your state of

disordered

distorted

distant reality?

 

Or…

 

Is that what 

you’ve been told

to think;

searching for 

distinctions 

is a 

fallacy?

 

Now,

you see.

 

A glimpse of

what lies beyond

the doorway,

patiently anticipating

its

unlocking;

all that remains

is for you

stop knocking;

look into

your hands

for the key.

 

External

termoil’s

remedy

lies with you

internally.

 

Experience,

inexperience,

in-expereience.

 

That’s

Life.

 

Frequent flow

in harmony;

the melody

beneath our

inconsistencies,

you feel them,

vibrational frequencies.

 

You, me

them, us;

all part

of something

great,

stop

look

and

listen…

allow it 

to

resonate…

 

Through you,

in all

you do.

 

That’s.

Life.

 

-Gustavo Lomas

 

 

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