They say life is sustained by four burners whose flames represent - health, career, family, and in my case, a child-like, mindless romance. I often wonder why romance flame keeps demanding attention when the others ask quietly for discipline. Perhaps it is because I still live here- Venus-ruled inner landscape, where connection, beauty, and longing speak louder than logic. Romance feels less like a choice and more like gravity. Even when I know the cost, my mind still asks, why not.
I did not expect an unrequited unspoken feeling to carry this much weight. I imagined distance, silence, maybe disappointment. What I did not foresee was the emotional complexity, the ethical knots, the invisible consequences that followed every word and pause. Over time, I learned that even the most intensely pursued romance does not guarantee meaning.
And yet, the mind still pines for that unrequited shemesh. Reading back, I see patterns I did not recognise then: care dressed as concern, curiosity stretching into attachment, pauses that carried more than words. Nothing explicit, yet everything implied. The longing was not loud, but persistent, sustained by moments that felt unfinished. I still see the past me in the present you.
To overcome da tots of shemesh, the last three years unfolded like a slow whirlwind. There were mishaps with Radhey Radhey Krishna, whose demands for a perfect relationship and shallow, impractical romance drained more than they gave. You gave me joy and safety, but your light turned out to be a torch light.
Another burnr was a biggest misstep with a "philosopher" whose PhD in mystical marriage and detachment and psyche strengthening turned out to be Mystical Muses. Someone whom I thought I could trust, only to be met with insecurities and disillusionment. Another light with full of soot with no heat as promised.
Somewhere between growth and confusion, romance became a mirror that turned me inside out.
Perhaps, I mistook shemesh for bliss, but it was closer to a sour grape- bright, tempting, and not meant to be consumed.
What unsettles me is not the absence of outcome, but the clarity that followed. I now see how unnecessary romance, especially when incomplete, can destabilise more than it nourishes. How desire, when unexamined, borrows time and energy from the other burners without asking permission.
And yet, I write this without bitterness. Longing taught me restraint. Loss taught me discernment. The pining remains, waiting for its natural death. It sits quietly now, reminding me that romance is powerful, not because it fulfils us, but because it reveals where we are still learning to choose wisely.
Today I remember to not mix Pleasure for ROMANCE. I now see that my Romance is as powerful as a whirlpool born of the Divine Feminine, whose own power I keep underestimating...
