Love, in its truest form, does not barter. It does not weigh, does not measure, does not seek recompense. It simply is—an unbroken expanse, stretching beyond need, beyond self, beyond time.
I have loved like that.
Not in the way the world understands love, with its tallying of affections, its silent contracts of give and take. Mine has been a love that watches from a distance, steady and unshaken, asking for nothing in return.
I have written words knowing they may never be read, offered hands that may never be held, stood guard over dreams that may never include me. And yet, I have never once thought of love as loss. How can it be, when it has never been about possession?
There is a quiet joy in this....loving without asking, giving without keeping count. It is the kind of love that does not wane with absence, that does not grow bitter with neglect. It lingers in unsent messages, in silent prayers, in the certainty that somewhere, someone I cherish exists, breathes, lives.
Perhaps the world calls it foolish. Perhaps they do not understand. But I do.
Love is not about being seen. It is not about being chosen. It is about being there—even when no one is looking.
@shikharpath
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