It is a phenomenon nearly universal, spoken of and described in
literature, poems and song. It is avoided because it because it begets vulnerability. It is
sought because we crave companionship.
It is created not only in the midst of passion but also in silent watches taken for a stricken lover. It completes what we lack.
It is not blind. It does not forgive all. It does not atone for one’s
imperfections or repair another’s faults.
It gives warmth. It can penetrate Hell and melt glaciers with the softest whisper.
Yet it can fade, break or be damaged. It is beautiful.
It joins us, divides us and drives us. But I find these words are poor and
incomplete when attempting to encompass all that it is.
What it is, is simply love.
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