The Planter and the seeds

Imagine yourself as a farmer who has seeds you are eager to plant. It shouldn’t take a genius to know that you will need fertile soil, water and sunlight. Seeds need warmth from the soil. What an awesome chemistry it can be between all these elements! With these ingredients working harmoniously, you should have a thriving plant in no time. Flourishing before your very eyes.

Now imagine if somehow, you made a mistake and instead, you planted you seeds in infertile soil, or maybe, by some serious lapse in judgement, you went for rocks. Yes, you decided to plant your seeds in rock! Who does that??!! Maybe your eyes tricked you, and you thought the rock was rich, fertile soil in which your seeds could thrive. Now you water your seeds, leave it exposed to sunlight but no sprouts show. You wait and wait but your plant doesn’t thrive. The farmer has made a poor choice and where there should have been bloom, there is gloom.

You are the farmer. Your seed is love. The person you plant your love in is your soil…or rock. For love to thrive, you must choose a fertile soil. If you choose a man in whom your seed can flourish and give rise to sprouts and maybe, even a tree someday, you will have the marriage/relationship people can only dream of. The beauty of your crops will hold people captivated. It is the beauty songs are sung about and poems are written about. You have love, you chose a man in whom your love can thrive and fate shines upon your union. Endless harvest awaits you. It truly is bliss.

If as a woman who has the capacity to love, you invest your love in a man who is like a rock, the heartbreak is endless. You will water and nourish your seeds,  with no sprouts to show for your effort. While others are harvesting, you will still be toiling…because you chose a rock. It is difficult to blame the rock, or the sun or the water. For it is after all what it is. A rock. Incapable of nourishing your love or rewarding your efforts. Rocks have been known to occasionally grow plants but it is a journey of patience. They just do not contain the nutrients seeds need to thrive. The seed, the sun and the water-all wasted just as love is wasted on some people.

So, if you are single, hopefully, you still have your seeds in your hands. Search for the right soil. The one who makes you reap double for all your labor of love. The one who is receptive in the way that you want and reciprocates the way you want. The right soil for your seeds.

If that boat has sailed already and you are one who has planted her seed in a rock, then be realistic about your expectations. While there is nothing wrong in being hopeful that your rock might one day give rise to sprouts, be prepared that your love may never quite be reciprocated in the way that you deserve. Make your peace with this painful fact.

Love on my mind…

Sweeter than honey is this love of ours, My heart flutters when you are near, When you look in my eyes, fireworks erupt in the fit of my belly. I sense you even before I see you. With you, I am fearless.

Warmer than a thick blanket on a cold winter night is your embrace my love, Joy is incomplete until I have shared it with you, Worries disappear when you are near. In your presence, I am comforted. With you, I know a reality that has eclipsed my fantasies.

Beautiful and unashamed is my adoration for you my love. Your hands are mine to hold. My heart speaks your name. The lines of your face are etched in my memory. When we are apart, I pine for you. For without you, I am incomplete.

Songs have been written and ballads sung about this affliction of mine. I was made for you, and you for me. In your arms, I am home. I am loved perfectly, in the way I want to be loved. Time stands still for us, and the rest of the world melts away.

God bless us.

(Written somewhere in S/Wales for my love on 24/12/2015)


My Muse

Heat….cold…fear… panic…a racing heartbeat,

Calm…warmth…comfort….a stabilized heartbeat,

My feelings have become like the four seasons;

Coming and going all in one moment within one day

At times my feet are locked in cement

At times my feet are afloat on a rising cloud

Some days I wake up with dread

Others days I wake up with hope

I see myself laughing with him

I also see myself mulling over memories of him

Memories of what once was

Memories of what we thought it would be

But now, I have learnt the beauty of true acceptance

To replace the desire to protest or change the situation

With the desire to make it my muse and accept it wholeheartedly

(Courtesy M.M).

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