As far as I remember, I have always fallen in love with things that are aberrant. That are unapproachable yet are the paramount definitions of beauty.
From that unreachable sky that I know would never fathom my feelings,
To those vagabond birds that wander around the ampleness of the sky that I have no expectations from,
To those stars that shimmer in the darkness of the night, which will seldom roger my appreciation,
To those blooming flowers, that would never perceive my confessions,
To those green trees that I never sought answers to my interrogations from,
To the air that touches my cheeks and surpasses me with no intention of stopping,
To those mountains that I am aware will never embrace my fondness,
To those rivers that would never walk along my path hand to hand,
To all the things that are distant yet beautiful, enticing yet undecipherable, and so far I’ve learned, this is the purest version of love.
With no boundaries, no impediments and no burdens of reciprocation yet I know as long as the nature stays, it stays.
Because it is more about how many effort we put to decipher things rather than how much of the things get deciphered.