Suddenly, which was light made shade. time
flirt, delicacies and look at they impassioned
give place to l' bitterness, with dryness of the
days. And much of people affirm: L' love
finished! A judgement which fall heavy on
shoulders which hear. End of l' love perhaps is
saddest observation so that is human.
Afterwards all, l' love moves the World and
fills life of joy. But it will be that l' does love
finish? After all, c' is such a strong feeling
which exceed the barrier dosrelacionamentos
personal and vacuum in social relations.
Where it has a human grouping has required
d' love. Love of parents, wire, d' friends. Love
enters a man and a woman. Qu' it import of
which c' type; is l' love? It is enough qu' there
exists so that its perfume immediately it
transforms them environments, it illuminates
the eyes, returns l' the lightest air. And if l' is
also essential; do love, why we let finish?
Why us it let us allow that if amesquinhe and
is choked? C' is that not always we know to
give the priority so that really c' is important.
Not always we know to look after people
that more we like. Sometimes we treat those
badly exactly auxlesquels more we want well.
It is our parents, brothers, husbands and
wire… They would have to be our priority,
but they seem to be always in last place. For
them us let us must keep the gestures of
delicacy, them afagos, the words gentis.
Worse still c' is when we allow that damage
and silences arrive at our house. C' is like a
cancer, which starts devagarzinho, is so
installing and it goes unverifiable. And all
starts because we leave speech, to change
experiments, to divide l' space that us let us
call hearth. And thus we go in us in moving
away from the loved beings. And still there is
l' imprudence. We cease speech, to smile, to
give attention to it of house. Concentrates on
people with whom we have
contatomeramente social, with little we
substitute the familiar group by friends,
colleagues and even by people whom we
finish knowing. Thus we will leave life of it be
followed. Of ONE dash, when we perceive,
time it has passed, the wire are adult, the
brothers have married, the parents died.
They or are old excessively at least to have
one conversation amusing at an end d'
afternoon. A way of life followed and us nor l'
let us have considering passing. C' is when it
arrives the repentance, has nostalgia, l' envy
d' to be joined a little. Not always d' is
needed; to wait: quelqu' one which he dies
suddenly, an accident, a disease unexpected.
And we perceive, then, that we waste time
who fastens at the side of this person special;
of this wire amusing; of this devoted mother;
of this loving father; of this companion who
was well at side, in going joined. Not. L' love
does not die. We let it soil, s' to erase. C' is
our negligence, carelessness and idleness
which choke l' love. But it is enough d' to
sprinkle with care, smiles and affection, for
which it lives again. Like it plants ressequida,
l' love drinks words that we direct to him and
if reergue. L' love never dies. Even if believe
qu' he died and buried, which disappeared,
only qu' waits; a gesture d' love it revives. It
tests! It looks for people of his family, for her
love, and remembers beautiful things which
lived. It do not leave only the bad memories
they contaminate. Focus all its attention with
the happiest moments. He étreigne, cherishes,
joint smiles, says how much he likes them.
And if, suddenly, its heart accelerates, their
eyes being wet and a indescritível feeling of
happiness to take account of you, n' does not
have doubt: they are the contagious effects
and delicious of l' love.