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letra de the spectrum of love - heybeard

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“i’m going to talk to you this evening on the subject of the spectrum of love. we know, that from time to time, there arise among human beings, people who seem to exude love as naturally as the sun gives out heat

people tend to distinguish between the various kinds of love. there are good kinds, such as divine charity, and allegedly bad kinds such as, in quotes, “animal l-st”. but it should be understood, i think, that they are all forms of the same thing

but they differ, in rather the same way that the colours of white light divide into the spectrum when p-ssed through a prism
so, we might say that the red end of the spectrum of love is doctor freud’s libido, and the violet end is agape, the divine love, or divine charity. and that in the middle of the various yellows, blues and greens are friendship, human interments, consideration, and all that sort of fellow feeling; but itʼs all the same thing

and so, the thing is, first of all, to get it moving, to follow whatever kind of love you have in the first place. because you cannot control love until you have some to control; until you have it running
the first thing then is to discover what indeed you do love, if anything, and you will find there is something. people who exude love they are in every way like rivers; they stream
but i repeat the point that is necessary to understand. that love is a spectrum

there is not nice love and nasty love, spiritual love and material love, mature affection on the one hand and infatuation on the other: these are all forms of the same energy. and you have to take it and let it grow where you find it. if you find that only one of these forms exist in you, if at least, you will water it, and the rest of the plants will blossom as well. the essential prerequisite, from the beginning, is to let it have its way

walking alone in the park, thinking about you, asking my heart
am i fooling myself, am i fooling myself, give me an answer will you

when you start giving things away, you keep getting more

inside my head, there’s a second hand moving freely

they are in every way like rivers; they stream

i am waiting, i am waiting
am i wrong, am i right, am i just in a fight with myself
with myself
lonely nights, endless fights
with myself

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