Love

 

A word with endless meanings,  
but I chose the purest one
the one that doesn’t bind like attachment,  
nor seeks the fleeting thrill of touch.  
It lightens, it calms, it frees,  
and feels as soft as the white of lotus petals,  
the gentle white of swans in morning mist,  
the drift of clouds in a boundless sky,  
the love that sees the soul.

Not a crush, nor attraction, nor the pull of attachment,  
but a love without conditions or need,  
the kind that blooms between Radha and Krishna.
A.V