Love is not in wanting, neither is it in detachment.
You will know what it is only when you pour your self completely, till you give it all away. Pour yourself into the sunrise you see, pour yourself into the whiff of the flower you smell, into the touch of the tiny fingers of a child, into the bird that leaves no traces in the sky, into the eyes of the stranger who serves you tea, into your work, into every hug, into the earth you step on, into the breath you breathe, pour and pour and pour, without keeping anything, until you have emptied yourself. Till that day when you too are washed away.
In that nothingness you are complete.
