Rangat teri zulfo ki ghatao ne churai
Khusboo tere anchal se hawao ne udai
Paimane ka dil na tut jaye to kahu main
Hai cheez gazab ki jo nigaho ne pilai
Love is born with the pleasure of looking at each other,
It is fed with the necessity of seeing each other,
And is concluded with the impossibility of separation.
We Are All A Little Weird & Life''s A Little Weird
Annd When We Find Someone Whose Weirdness Is Compatible With Ours
We Join Up Them And Fall In Mutual Weirdness And Call It ''''LOVE''''
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
