The war had taken a toll. More than a 1000 lives had been lost. There was deep mistrust, and hatred between the communities. In the part of the world, they spoke the language of hate. The language of destroying the other community. Humanity was deprived of its potential beauty. Love is a stranger.
Love could be your greatest friend. A friend you could turn to, when lonely. A friend who was always joyful, and non-judgemental. A friend who believed in giving. The only condition to enjoy the friendship of love was to have faith in him. But alas, that is so tough for most of us. We miss the golden moments of basking in the intimacy of love. We can't trust. We can't believe. We can't surrender. Love is a stranger.
Love is soft. Love is gentle. But to protect our ego, we become tougher than we need to. We are not giving the tenderness of love to manifest. Love does not talk, it will whisper with gentleness and intimacy. We are used to talking. We feel uncomfortable to get close enough to whisper. We are missing out on the magic of love. Love is a stranger.