Where Roses Blush Deeper
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind." - William Shakespeare. I have always imagined that if I were Cupid, my ink would be dipped not in scarlet, but in the quiet pulse of every heart I have ever strucked. On Valentine’s Day, I did not merely released arrows, I released awakenings. I lingered in the hush before a confession, in the tremor of hands almost touching, in the breath between doubt and devotion. Though unseen, I moved gently among my loved ones, guiding courage into their chests and hope into their words. If I speak, it is in sighs; if I write, it is upon the soft parchment of human longing.
Yet even as I claim the bow and its gilded aim, I remain human, a witness to how love blooms in fragile soil. I see that my arrows do not create affection from nothing; they simply uncover what has always been waiting. Valentine’s Day is but a lantern held high, illuminating what quietly endures through ordinary mornings and weary nights. The truest romance is not in grand gestures alone, but in constancy; in choosing, again and again, the same soul amid a world of endless chances.
So if today, hearts beat louder and roses blush deeper, know that it is not magic alone, but the brave will to love that sustains the spell. I may borrow Cupid’s wings, but it is still my voice that believes in devotion beyond a single sunset. And when the candles burn low and the petals fall, love, once awakened, does not retreat into myth; it lingers, eternal, in the chambers it has claimed.
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