We love you
We love the life that is given to us, even if we hate how we live it other times. And yet, we cry for an eternal life, in the company of our people, without knowing that eternity is never pleasant, although the company is always present, we perceive them far away. But still and that’s the way we love it. From the memory that we have left. We love.
Sadness becomes a repetitive act resulting from unconditional love. We love. We love without knowing if we are reciprocated at times. We love without knowing that we are not really other times. We love and they love us. We always love Without being almost aware of it. We love. We love, so many times, that we do not even feel our own voices. We love.
The old age and that pain in the bones after having lived, perhaps, enough, does not overcome the pain in the heart for having loved, perhaps, more than necessary. But we believe that you never love yourself too much. And we continue loving eternally. We love.
While the voices of thought call us with voices from the past, loneliness is constant, because only we hear those voices. Only we feel that cold of perpetual loneliness. That familiar from the past that embraces us and envelops us, because it makes us feel loved. Only we listen to those who left already. And our loneliness becomes more present. But still and like this: We love.
How can I tell you that your sadness is my sadness, because I hear your heart vibrate through your eyes, the affection of your feeling through your voice, the memory of your kisses, of true love, of brotherly love, of love of the good … while the voices of thought take you away, nothing is eternal anymore because I see how, without allowing it, you vanish in my embraces … and you go slowly, with what is called Alzheimer’s or perhaps Death. And that is when we realise that you have loved. How much have you really loved. And we love you Like you loved us one day. As we always love you. We love. We love you.