Love, are you unholy?

An effort to understand the world is never a waste of time.
Walking alone was something I never minded or rather was something I enjoyed.
The biting cold, ruthless and painstaking, followed me like a moon following a cloud. I talked to myself, asking a variety of questions, and justified each with rational and irrational reasons. My unseeing eyes, for the shortest of seconds, met a pair of brownish black eyes. The depth of those eyes made me gape and I was lost in its beauty. As I looked properly, I realised that I had been staring at an old man, packing candles and judging by his looks, the Lord had not been very kind to him.
His shoulders were hunched, to support his exceptionally fragile body, all shrivelled up reflecting the glory of The Cold . His skin had a ghostly glow, and his hair, untidy and matted, was unkempt. He wore a pair of dirty, faded jeans, and a white fur jacket, that was so old that I could almost smell the odour of a second-hand shop.
His bonny hands, worked fervently and with a certain kind of music. The dedication drawn on those features could recite a thousand tales. Oh, tales in which Fate played with a broken man, caught in the pit of penury. A trace of a suppressed smile lit those exceptionally deep eyes, regenerating wonder. He stopped his work and scrapped through his bag and took out a little car toy, still sealed with the marking of an outdated company. Tears filled those eyes and his love starved hands wiped them off.
I froze, unable to move but his tear-stained face hurt me. Oh, it was love. Love, shown by an old man, an eternal bliss, that captured the earth.
One look around me showed me that how this world functioned. The path I walked on, led so many people forward but none had stopped to discover the beauty of love. It was only filth and penury that they saw. And a few looks towards him showed me that it was his appearance that prevented them from dwelling upon the inner beauty of this man, fooled by the tricks of gold.
Without an answer, neither rational nor irrational, I walked on, struggling to stop my tear ducts from bursting.

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