An answer to the most asked question of my life.

In the very beginning posts on this blog the two things that got mentioned enough and have been repetitive a bit are simply 1 - I love poetry 2- I love spring and specifically March (and no we don't count Sikhi, Waheguru or Kudrat. They are in there own different realm that transcends all meanings of the word love of English language). Several reasons for both but all the reason I ever need to love anything is nothing more then a simple feeling. You see, that's what makes me an artist, that's what makes art (all kinds of art), art. Feeling.

And despite the fact that we apply terms like good, bad, real and fake to feelings, feelings are none of that. Emotions, are neither good nor bad, and the can't be real or fake either. Because either you have them, which makes them real and you can't get any more real then that, or you don't. Which actually, doesn't make them fake, because something that doesn't exist can't be anything.

For anything to created, anything created by anyone, One has to dip down into what they are feeling and give it a substantial life. Now that creation can be good or bad but that doesn't make emotions good or bad.

And March is simply the month were everything I create comes out of happiness and love. No matter the dreads of world, when nature's regenerating and rejuvenating itself, how can you not? Especially when you're me and spend every possible moment of being, submerged in nature one way or another. And ask any friend of mine (I seem to say that frequently too, eh?) they'll tell you I'm the person who'll point to the lonely lovely tiny flower on ground even if we were standing in midst the concrete buildings of downtowns. You will not see me having walked down two blocks, without having picked a flower, blown on a dandelion, talked to some insect or having said 'Hi' to a bird flying by.

Therefore, I've decided to dedicate all post for this month to feelings and emotions. Without whom, we wouldn't be alive. And despite beginning with happiness and love, lets get the conversation on specific kind of love out of the way. As readers, don't know if you even wanted to ask me or not, but as listeners the topic of having or not having ,in my case, what the world dubs as a love life, has become the most annoying topic ever. At one point or another almost everyone who can is from my generation, has asked me why I don't write poems on romance and love. Despite the fact I can still be annoyed, I've chosen to be amused. Love, heart-break, romance, these words mean more than what we've made of them. It's true that hear-break is the source of poetry, but heart-break is more than a broken relationship of two hours.

I'm sure it's made sense

to question me on the matter

when your teenage hormones where raging 

and mine seemed non-excitant,

but it's not the existence

that was ever in question,

it really only was the intent.

And while I blame you not

for following the norms

and getting tangled in emotions and relationships

you understood not at the time,

I was the wrong person

to play truth and dare with and ask 

"who do you have a crush on or like?"

I was too busy you see, fighting for rights

too busy to notice the gossipy sites

I was too busy finding

the truths that lay hidden

too busy questioning

the acceptable social inflictions

I cared more about nature

and how humans had strayed so far

my ragging hormones as they say,

where too busy fighting humanities war 

all my senses, every single one

was busy deciphering

if it's a war worth fighting

or is it a lost cause

And before I knew it

half a decade had passed

and despite having never

gone on a date,

I learnt to love

what you had not

I learnt what loving meant

and what it really felt

to love and not expect

even a decent act in return

unconditional love,

that is what filled me

by the time my battle came to end

And sure enough,

no thanks came my way,

form this dreary world

I've chosen to love.