Once I grieved for finding no one. Now I regret not finding the one I sought.
Once I regretted that no one loved me. Now I grieve that I can love no one.
These days I no longer seek love. I've learned that love is a machine for banishing peace. Once I'd accept even turmoil to have love. Now, if I could find peace, I'd gladly let all love go.
Once the absence of love made me restless. Now even the scent of love sends me running.
Instead of love, I seek only peace now. Instead of praise or blame, I seek only silence now. I can do without a lover's warmth, without her nearness. What do you call this? Old age? Or ripening?