ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻤﺴﺎﺀ ﺠﻤﻴل ﻭﻻ ﻋﺸﺎﺀ ﺭﻭﻤﺎﻨﺴﻲ ﻭﺸﻤﻭﻉ ﻴﺎ ﺒﻐـﺩﺍﺩ، ﻝﻴﺱ ﻝﺤﻅﺔ ﻭﻻ ﻗﺒﻠﺔ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﻤﻭﻋﺩ ﺒﺄﻁﺭﺍﻑ ﺍﻝﻤﺩﻴﻨﺔ ﺃﻭ ﻋﻠـﻰ ﺃﻋﻠـﻰ ﻤﺭﺘﻔﻊ ﻓﻴﻬﺎ ،ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻝﻴﻠﺔ ﻨﺒﻜﻲ ﻓﻴﻬﺎ ﺃﻭ ﻨﻌﺸﻕ ،ﻭﻻ ﺩﻤﻭﻉ ﻓـﺭﺍﻕ ﻭﻻ ﺤﺭﻗﺔ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﺃﻥ ﻨﻘﻀﻲ ﺃﻭﻗﺎﺕ ﻜﺜﻴﺭﺓ ﺴﻭﻴﺎ ،ﺃﻭ ﺃﻥ ﻴﻜـﻭﻥ ﺒﺭﻨﺎﻤﺠﻨﺎ ﺍﻝﺭﻴﺎﻀﻲ ﻤﺸﺘﺭﻙ ،ﻭﻻ ﻤﻭﺴﻡ ﺤﺼﺎﺩ ﺃﻭ ﻗﻁﺎﻑ ﺯﻴﺘـﻭﻥ، ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﺭﺤﻠﺔ ﺘﻨﺘﻬﻲ ﻋﻨﺩﻤﺎ ﻨﺼل ﻤﺩﺨل ﺍﻝﻘﺭﻴﺔ ﺃﻭ ﺴﻬﺭﺓ ﺘﻨﺘﻬـﻲ ﻋﻨﺩ ﺒﺯﻭﻍ ﺍﻝﻔﺠﺭ ،ﻭﻻ ﻓﻜﺭﺓ ﻨﺤﺭﺭﻫﺎ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻷﻭﺭﺍﻕ ﺃﻭ ﻨﺒﺤﺙ ﻋﻨﻬـﺎ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻝﻤﻼﻫﻲ ﺍﻝﻠﻴﻠﺔ ،ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻨﺸﻭﺓ ﻨﺤﺴﻬﺎ ﺃﻭ ﺘﻌﺼﻑ ﺒﻨﺎ ﺇﻝﻰ ﻋﻨﺎﻥ ﺍﻝﺴﻤﺎﺀ ﻭﺘﺭﻤﻲ ﺒﻨﺎ ﻤﻥ ﺠﺩﻴﺩ ﺒﻴﻥ ﺍﻝﻘﺒﻭﺭ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﺍﺨﺘﻴﺎﺭ ﺍﻝﻜـﻼﻡ ﺍﻝﻤﻨﻤﻕ ﺍﻝﻤﻠﻭﻥ ﺍﻝﺭﺍﻗﻲ ،ﻭﻻ ﺒﺴﺎﻁﺔ ﻭﻋﻔﻭﻴﺔ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﺠﻬل ﻭﻋﺩﻡ ﻓﻬـﻡ ﻭﺍﻁﻼﻉ ﻭﻻ ﺘﻤﻜﻥ ﻭﺴﻠﻁﺔ ،ﺃﻨﺎﻨﻴﺔ ﻭﺍﺴﺘﺒﺩﺍﺩ ،ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻗﻁﻌﺔ ﺃﺩﺒﻴﺔ ﻭﻻ ﻝﻭﺤﺔ ﺩﺍﻓﻨﺸﻲ ،ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﺍﻝﻜﻤﺎل ﻭﻻ ﺍﻝﺘﻔـﺭﺩ ،ﺍﻝﺘﻤﻴـﺯ ،ﻝـﻴﺱ ﺍﻝﻅﻬﻭﺭ ،ﺍﻹﺒﺩﺍﻉ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻝﺒﺭﻭﺯ ...ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻏﺭﺒﺔ ﺃﻭ ﻗﺭﺒﺔ ﻭﻻ ﻗﺭﻋﺔ ﻨﺒﻴﺫ ﺃﻭ ﺴﻴﺠﺎﺭﺓ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﻋﻨﺎﻕ ﻭﻝﻬﻔﺔ ،ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻝﻴﺱ ﻀﺤﻜﺎﺕ ﺭﺍﻗﺼﺔ ﺃﻭ ﺭﻗﺼﺎﺕ ﻀﺎﺤﻜﺔ ﻭﻻ ﺘﺒﺎﺩل ﻤﺸﺎﻋﺭ ﺃﻭ ﻤﺸﺎﺭﻜﺎﺕ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﺘﻐﺭﻴﺩ ﺍﻝﻌﺼﺎﻓﻴﺭ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻝﺤﻘﻭل ﺃﻭ ﻝﻘﺎﺀﺍﺕ ﺒﺎﻝﺴﺭ ﺒﻴﻥ ﺍﻷﺸﺠﺎﺭ ﻭﺨﻠﻑ ﺜﻜﻨـﺎﺕ ﺍﻝﻌﺴﻜﺭ ﺍﻝﻤﻬﺠﻭﺭﺓ ﻭﻻ ﻓﺭﺤﺔ ﻝﻘﺎﺀ ﻭﻻ ﻝﻭﻋﺔ ،ﻝﻴﺱ ﻭﺤﺸﺔ ﻏﻴﺎﺏ ﻭﻻ ﺸﻭﻕ ﺒﻌﺎﺩ ﻭﻻ ﺃﺴﻁﻭﺭﺓ ﺃﻭ ﺨﺭﺍﻓﺔ ﻻ ﻨﻌﺭﻑ ﺤﻘﻴﻘﺘﻬﺎ ﻤﻥ ﻭﻫﻤﻬـﺎ... ﺍﻝﺤﺏ ﻜل ﻫﺫﺍ ﻴﺎ ﺒﻐﺩﺍﺩ ﻭﻜﺜﻴﺭ ﻝﻡ ﻨﻌﺭﻓﻪ ...ﻭﻝﻥ ﻨﻌﺭﻓﻪ. 229