You cannot want it more than the other person.
The desire from heart to another must be of equal value. That proverbial you cannot fancy it for them. That dream must be born from wanting; craving. Like love. It must hunger and thirst in a way only that soul understands.
You cannot seek out greatness for another being that longs to idle.
It is the greatest dissonance for one to accept with grace and humility. It is also … the one thing that makes the soul bleed.
To see the potential, but to stand in the distance and watch the possibility take shape in ways that are incomprehensible. To know it is within reach, but out of reach.
This is what it feels like to desire so much for someone, to only see the other person see something entirely different.
You can cry in grief and scream in pain. It does not alleviate the angst of what is. You can only watch them making follies all around.
This is life. This is freedom. This is love.
It manifests in ways that “seem” so cruel and unruly. But life is exactly that.
To love is to let go. To relinquish a sense of what should be. This is peace, but like anything worth fighting for … it comes at a cost. It is called choice. Difficult ones.
A ruminating Heart 