WHEN I FALL IN LOVE

Today again, I tried to see love as a person, and I was tempted to go the conventional way. They say “Love is blind” — and I’m like, “Is Love like one of those blind people, perhaps, the blind beggar who decorate pedestrian walkway to beg for alms in pitiful whispers? Does Love need someone to hold it by the hand? Is it that helpless and clueless that it can go astray if left all by itself?”

Hmmm! “Love is a beautiful thing,” right? But maybe, its senses has been overhauled by the sprouting insanity of end time. That may also answers to why people who are purportedly said to be in love exhibit “legal” insanity, misconduct and even the acute symptoms of indiscipline, all in the name of being in love. I imagine a man like Samson — full of strength, yet weakened by the overdose of the love capsules from Delilah’s prescription. He was treading the highway of what staggers between ignorance and carefreeness until he was consumed in her phagocytosis. My heart jerks like an automobile set on an emergency brake without the least march on the clutch. Is this a way to entice someone on the brink of decision to consider love? What then is the bait?

When I fall in love, I would want “my heart” to be drowned in that feeling. I fear to say “my whole heart” because maybe, at some point, I may need to reconsider an outright retrieval. But friends keep poking me, “Ndifreke, you need to be soaked.” They want me to be engulfed in it like the earth sleeps peacefully in the arms of darkness at dusk.

When I fall in love, I would want my pulse to conform to the beat of a love song — one of those which sets the mood for the just-wedded on honey moon and greases out possible encumbrances to consummation.

When I fall in love, I would want to have my senses still intact, and a respectable sense of responsibility, gears out first from me, and its overflow splatters on the one who will have me. I believe I will be called the Lover; and she — the Lovee, and we will be in love — I guess.

When I fall in love, I would want the satisfaction it gives to glow my life with vigour and questionable radiance — something more original than what the wonders of artistic make-up does to ladies’ faces.

When I fall in love, I would still need my eyes to lead as they wobble because I want to keep seeing that beautiful one that will finally have me. I still want to see people and things, and keep learning too. But they say, “Love is blind” — Samson proved this as an endpoint when he asked a small boy to show him the way. Here, I tremble — a little though.

Could there be another kind of love with residue of indemnity — void of the rumoured complete rift of senses? Because that is what I want, when I fall in love.

Photo Credit: Ayorinde Photography

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