Love in Light of the First Law of Thermodynamics

I often attempt to explain how the disappearance of love's excitement does not imply the love's insincerity. We often accuse love for not being genuine because the spark is no longer there, the butterfly in the stomach gone.

I like to use Newton's First Law of Thermodynamics as a model to explain this phenomenon, which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; energy can only be transferred or changed from one form to another.

NOT DESTROYED

Yes, the euphoria of juvenile love diminishes as we mature in relationship. Although we very much enjoy each other's company, we lack the excitement and electric shock we had during out first years.
There is nothing out of the ordinary here; it is as expected. In fact, it could be a sign of growth.

The reason why the first excitement or joy fades away is to give space for a new kind of joy. The new joy does not replace the former joy, but enrich it. You may not feel the butterfly in your stomach anymore, but you have the joy of child-bearing, the joy of raising a child. When the child has grown into an adult, you will yet experience a different joy, that is in watching your children's children grow, and so on and so forth. For who can withstand a constant excitement and euphoria for a prolonged period of time? We would eventually get tired and sick of it ourselves! Like a child who eats too much candy. At first it tastes heavenly, but after days of sucking a lolly, his stomach would start to ache and the last thing he wishes to do is to have another candy.

Love changes from one form to another. When you grow old and grey, you may not possess the spark of youth, for it has been transformed into the strength of mature love, finely tested by time. It is at that moment that you may gaze into your partner's eyes and frames of moments would be projected: the moments when you were there for each other through illness, through adversaries, through disagreements. Yet above all, still you say "I would go through it all over again for you."

NOT CREATED

Back to Newton's First Law of Thermodynamics: "energy can neither be created nor destroyed [...]".
We have talked about the transformation (and not destruction) of love.

But how is love not created?

Man, Pureé and Apple Pie

I find a man oddly comparable to a bowl of rustic vegetable pureé,
or to a sloppily cut slice of a classic apple pie,
what difference is there?

Since harvest, all were collected, selected and piled, observed and judged,
Stripped and peeled and cored and cut,
Salted and drowned we must, with sour, sweet, and rather bitter spice,
Before then thrown into a furnace of flame.

At dinner, people gather round the table,
Hand-in-hand saying grace.
'Grace?'
Man search for grace round the table,
But grave—not grace—was what man found.

For as often as grace dances a hideous waltz,
As it hides under the veil of suffering,
Love shall sing an uneasy tune,
Chained in a chair, forced into a confession.

But alas! See the Man being passed around,
In the dining table that last supper,
To quench the thirst of many,
'He' was grace grief could not stand before.

Ode to a Crescent Moon

what elegance, O Queen of bleak sky,
   though dire wolves await thee bid adieu!
as stars shine bright to glow and die,
   thou still and silent through the night.

bent of mystery, cry of deep misery,
  of a maiden's love--yet to be requited,
what beauty to see, what's hidden from me,
  an enigma dark from mine own sight.

when crescent gone, as dogs howl low,
   a beast of bumps and tainted flesh,
unfolds all secrets now to show
   what it means to be whole again.

Two

Not all who lie
awake at two
In morn's dark veil
are broken souls.
Some ponder deep
of everything
and nothing that
was, is and will to be.

They have been struck
By arrows of
A cupid's bow
that penetrates,
that weaks the strong,
that calms the bold,
that blinds the eye
that now,

Their slumber e'er
forgets its course,
and thoughts sail hard
around the room.
For love rise when
their real life's play
be better than,
their dreams at night.

Longing

what I most crave,
to have thee now,
so sweetly sing
mine name thee love.

I long thee, dear,
as river longs,
as water waits,
a seeking deer.

my blood thine drink,
my place by thee,
'till dawn be dusked,
'till we do sink.

Wajah - Wajah Cinta

Seorang muda bertanya kepadaku,

“Apakah masih ada tersisa
jejak cinta di dunia ini?”

Jawabku:

“Cinta itu ketika ibu menghajar anaknya,
Lalu ia menangis terisak di ruang atas,
Dan setelah pudar sembab di matanya,
Ia membalut luka buah hatinya.

Cinta itu ketika ayah pulang mencari nafkah
Membawa sekerat roti untuk anaknya.
Dengan wajahnya yang letih ia tersenyum,
Senyuman yang tak menyentuh matanya.

Cinta itu ketika badai hidup melanda,
Dan seorang sahabat duduk di sisimu,
Rela merasakan badai itu bersamamu,
Demi menarikmu ke air yang tenang.

Sesungguhnya,
Cinta itu sederhana,
            namun sulit dipahami.

Cinta itu cuma-cuma,
namun tak terhingga mahalnya.

Cinta senantiasa berbisik,
namun gaungnya mengubahkan dunia.”

Melting Wax

Have you spared

a thought

to a candle?

Have you hearkened how

its flame blazes

with grace, wavering around

a dark chamber, projecting its

passionate fiery dance?

Have you overturned your house

frantically in search of a stick

Of cold white wax.

Perhaps it’s your birthday,

that you so must lit it,

only to murder it away,

into smoke and nullity,

into a wish—yours.

My love for you

is no different.

My soul burns

With divine ecstasy,

In the thought of you.

And what joy, what joy!

When you come running

for me, to grant your wishes,

which ought I sacrifice for,

To the death—mine.

My beloved, it is no secret

how dashing you look

under my amber light,

as I watch you

from my melting wax.