You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house-- , and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,-- you had just walked down them and vanished. But there was still no sign of the beloved. All he wanted was a single connection--a single sign that would make him know of his beloved's presence. Hoping the birds who sang him a little tune also sang her one by the day, or she visited the same shop he visisted the other day.637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg38g4gs9pt
"But the problem is, you don't know who is this beloved." His friend told him, sipping from his hot cup of tea. It was late in the afternoon, a busy day for businessmen yet all they were doing was sipping tea while discussing the beloved that he's waiting. The true love that have never--or yet still--arrived. 637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbyic7rQ8hz
He does not who she is or where she is. All he knows is she's his beloved. The girl he's continuously waiting for yet hasn't still arrived. He hopes to see her in the swarm of people walking down the street, or in a grand mall--hoping that a little tug of their string of fate would make his heart know she is his beloved. But such things never arrived, still, years after his last breakup. Experimental beloveds, he deemed them, but all they were were failures. In some cases, love was often mistook for pity, for generosity, for kindness and was never presented as love. And he vowed to not do anymore experimental beloveds and just wholly devote himself to the real beloved. 637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc9CotBop3v
He finishes his tea and grabs his briefcase. "I'll go home for today." He announces to his friend. There's a little hope burning inside his heart that this was the day for his beloved--for them to meet down the busy streets of New York. Maybe she's eating pizza or walking briskly. 637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmUHRnSszLi
And with a light heart, he exits his own office, in hope to find his beloved.637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwlN4itypY0
He always asked himself, Is there assurance she'll arrive? Of course there was not because all he was doing was to wait for someone he doesn't even know and all he does to find her was for the string of fate to tug. As the car drives through the busy streets, he looks out of the window. The familiar smell of grease from the pizza places or even the sound of brisk footsteps brings his heart at ease. Maybe there is hope.
There's this woman wearing a sky blue dress, her back hunched maybe in sadness and her curly blonde hair covering her face. She's beautiful but there was no tug. And even of others appear, there was no familiar tug. 637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsjAWglxqiH
He orders for the car to stop near a deli. Maybe I have to be open to everything. He wonders as he enters the shop.
There's a long line yet it was not he's thinking. The pain of waiting for the beloved that hasn't arrived was greater than any other "pain" in the world. The pain of having to love a non-existent person or the pain of waiting without assurance of her arrival.
After a few minutes or so, he reaches the start of the line. Tug. He feels it. The tug of fate. Telling him it's this person he's been waiting for. The cashier smiles at him. "Hi. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Jake."
And this time, he knows, he'd limited himself. Love is fluid. And so is the beloved.637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDyBYWWn7ZP
