How amazing it is to read between the lines of every act of care , to see if it be genuine, done without expecting anything in return or done with an intent up the sleeve.
How often does a person who lends a helping hand accept verbal thanks as sufficient gratitude and not expect licking of boots as a preferable reward?
How often do orphans receive gifts ananymously without an offer for cheap adoption in compensation?
Is it still true that a cheerful giver is virtuous?
How often do the destitute, the schizophrenic, mongols,the aged-and-seat ridden, the lame, etc get justice?
How often is the speechless selflessly adjudicated for?
How often is the blind led pass a bumpy crossroad without a spite?
How often is that haggard beggar taken off the street, out of the ruins into a home with no strings attached?
But every so often, so often indeed that, if by a twist of fate that beggar turns gorgeous, and begins to wine and dine with the powers that be, a flurry display of praise- singing and showy acts of care and tenderness comes knocking at the door that i cannot help, dare to ask:
Where is true love?
True love, where are you?