Joy

When The Romeo says," Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more

To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue

Unfold the imagined happiness that both

Recieve in either by this dear encounter."

And The Juliet says in reply," Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament.

They are but beggars that can count their worth;

But my true love is grown to such excess,

I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth."

And the Lawrence shows that he is all set to unite them in peace, I stop reading and ponder how fairly the tale is going on the bruises of Romance where the words of the lover is an elixir to all pain and the eye-embrace of the beloved with the curve of her pink smile is like a whisper into his ears that she is all his.

I wonder how beautiful these fairy tales must be in real if they occur even one in million and how blessed are the souls who are in it living the blessing of destiny. Some create examples and some leave behind sweet memories but every love story has its own colour and got its own extremes.How does it feel to find that love has become unmeasurable and that one's presence purges the neighbour air. The feeling is pure, pristine and evocative making every little thing around drunken in the joy of romanticism including me..:) :)