One question I find myself asking is, “What is the truest form of love?”
Is it involuntary like a heartbeat? Like a mother’s love for her child.
Or deliberate and purposeful? Like Hosea’s pursuit of Gomer?
Is it easy and natural or complex and difficult?
Did Christ go to the cross because He chose to love us? Or because He is love?
I wonder if humans are even capable of real love.
Or has the concept been so soiled with self-gratification and commercialism that we wouldn’t- or couldn’t- recognize it, even if it was hand-delivered to our doorstep.
I hate Valentine’s Day. Becuase you know #bittersinglewoman #hater
I’m basically the Grinch of Valentine’s Day.
Lemme explain, Dr. Seuss style.
Everyone on Facebook liked Valentine’s Day a lot.
Except Rae, the Real as the Streets blogger, who did not.
Scrolling through images from her tablet with a frown,
At the filtered romantic pics with likes all around.
“Valentine’s Day is sickening,” Rae thought with a scowl,
“Chocolate, roses, candles, and romance. It sucks something foul!”
If I speak, let it be in love.
If I listen, let it be in humility.
If I rejoice, let it be in gratitude.
If I suffer, let it be in faith.
Love is a game and one of chance.
Play by the rules and win romance.
First roll the dice, and then advance.
You may get lucky or just a dance.
Love is a gamble and kind of a bitch.
With playing, cheating, and tryna get rich.
Motives matter when looking to hitch.
Some hearts soar to false heights and land in a ditch.
Love is erratic, no tales are the same.
Some bask in pleasure, others wallow in pain.
With love, you can embrace or abstain.
Whatever approach, love is a game.