Why do we harbor hate
for those who dwell so close—
so close within the chambers
where our deepest longings rest?
Why, suddenly,
do they drift away,
fading like a whispered prayer
lost upon the wind,
so far from the embrace
of our yearning hearts?
Perhaps it is the weight—
the heavy weight of our own hopes,
like stones piled high on fragile dreams,
crushing the tender shoots
of desire before they bloom.
A chain begins—
no one knows from where—
this endless chain of expectations,
wrapping around our wishes
the moment they take breath.
And so, we test our longing—
measuring it
against the harsh scale of hope,
as if hope were the only truth
that could justify desire’s existence.
As long as our yearning
passes this cruel test,
hope’s venom cannot touch us,
and the garden of our desires
blooms in wild profusion.
But the moment the dark shadow
of expectation falls heavy—
silent, cold—
desire gasps and withers—
its fragile life snuffed out
beneath the blackened sky.
And from that stillness,
from the hollow left behind,
hatred is born—
bitter, sharp, and cruel—
a scar carved deep
where love once dared to live.
Why do we burden desire
with the weight of hope,
and expect it to soar,
when the chains pull it down,
binding wings
before they’ve learned to fly?
We gain nothing—
only lose the peace
that once filled the quiet places within,
as hope and longing clash,
wounding the heart’s soft core.
Let desire be free—
free to pulse and breathe
without the crushing hand of expectation.
Let it flutter like a fragile flame,
flickering, yet alive,
dancing with the light of possibility.
Bind desire only
where it cannot suffocate—
where it may struggle but not drown—
where it can pause,
retreat if it must,
without breaking.
If we learn this—
if we set desire gently free—
it will smile again,
and hatred will never take root,
never grow its thorny branches
in the garden of our hearts.
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*Why do we harbor hate
for those so close,
so close within our hearts?
Let desire breathe free—
and hate will find no home.*
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