WHISPERS OF INSPIRATION

Is it an elective smile? Is it an elective electron? Is it an elective affection? Or is it an elective lust, nicely embellished with all the enticing adverts? Why have we chosen to amplify this day of lust as love with its common commercialized craze? Why have we imported, licensed and embraced this so-called celebration in the name of projecting erotic love for man and woman? Why have we singled out 14th or 15th to indulge in this reddish love? And who the heck is Cupid, the chubby little boy wearing diapers on the Valentine card and shooting the arrow to the heart? Is there a spin control out there that we don't know off? What's in this day at all that, condones the annual shortage of condoms from the stalls? The conundrum of mixing core cultural care and elective ones comes and come again. The contours of core colours creeping into elective civilisation in creative circles of consequence is certainly intoxicating our consciousness. And now

Slowly but silently, I can feel the giant throbs of those distant close affection. I can feel the charming evolution you tickled in the depth of my heart. I could hear others telling me spread the ink daily on anything. I could not tell how they smelled you from my breath even when I didn’t know you. And I keep wondering how you still held on to this age? How come you still patiently waited for this tortures growth? How come you didn't scream for me to notice your love? How come you didn’t attack the sense in my nonchalant ways? How come I never knew this truth all this while? How come I never knew you existed all this while? How come I never knew you until now? How come I never knew you were the one stoking my dreams all this while? How come I never knew you were the love I was meant to marry and die with? So all along you've been there monitoring me? So all along you've silently kept looking out for me? So all along you've been t