Sometimes I forget how much I love poetry.
Yet, upon entering my office and seeing the complete works of Shakespeare and feeling like it's Christmas all over again, I remember an unwavering fondness that was established so long ago. I don't often take the time to read poetry, but when I do, it speaks to a deeper part of my soul that usually remains untouched. Recently, I watched one of my favorite movies, "Patch Adams" and heard a poem that has captivated my heart on so many different occasions. Since the inner workings of my mind have revolved around all the many curses and blessings of being in love, here is a little verse for you to enjoy!
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is your hand
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close
Pablo Neruda
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