Love: An illusion

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This isn't really a poem, but it is in a sense, it's actually more like prose. This is actually a cynical take on true love, but it is true in some way. Love...what the hell is it?

Submitted: July 12, 2008

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Submitted: July 12, 2008



What is love?Is it  deadly poison or is it a healing gift? Is it as close to heaven as a person can get? or is it a a swinging axe over a person's head? I've asked a lot of people about the meaning of love, or more importantly, the bare essence of love. (Mind you, not the type of love that caring parents give, but the passionate love of a man and woman.)  And I've never got an answer that satisfied my curiosity. That was until I met an old woman, bent over with age, features shriveled and wrinkled. She laughed bitterly after I staged my question. And she told me:

"Love is an illusion, a moment of confusion.Love is time's willing fool to be played an d toyed with like a cat does with a  ball of yarn. " 

And I said, "How can this be, there are many happy couples out there." 

"People change with time, changing their hearts, souls, minds, and body.And if people change, then  love must change with the tide as well. All those people you see out there live under a spell weaved with their own hands. They are not truly happy, they live under the image of love when it doesn't even exist. Girl, I know you speak of the passionate type of love, and that does not last. Passionte love is another form of infatuation. Mind not what poets and writes tell, for they are sweet-honeytongued liars. I say this with all my heart, LOVE IS AN ILLUSION, A MOMENT OF CONFUSION."

I thanked her for her opinion and walked away puzzled as ever. But after a few months I finally came to realize her words rang true and deep within my heart I weeped. I had finally recieved the most satisfying answer, and yet the most unsatisfying answer of all.

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