How elusive love could be. It goes from here to there, from there to here, from here to there. You can sit and see it come and scape back again like simple spectators on a tennis match. Or you could go after it, tumbling down and knocking others down, like if it were a rugby game. In any case it would be difficult to catch.
It is better to stand still and wait for it to pose on your hands like a butterfly would do. But you need to be careful. True love only settles on very sweet flowers, those that have had such a long and extenuating work of introspection that only a thick and bright syrup comes out of them. If ever a butterfly leaves your hands, you would know that there is nothing for which you should go out to find. Better to close your eyes, face the darkness, and walk down the stairs towards your own infinite being. Only there you will find the answers of your past, present, future, of love and heartbreak, of destiny and free will. Prepare yourself to find a very dark tunnel, and don’t forget to sharpen your sword, for there will be many monsters to fight before you can find any light.