Love is… I feel like such a fool. I’m so small inside of it. I can’t even imagine how big it is, or at least how big it ought to be. The only thing that I am just now beginning to understand is my own love. For him. I feel small inside of my own love. My own small love, which shapes every small moment, which shape my small life. But love, my love, makes that small life whole. It fills it up. To its full capacity. It has to.
The way I ____ love. Feel. Express. Perceive. Live in. It’s not through some societal filter, Hallmark distortion, Cosmo manipulation, childhood idealization. It’s solid. And intangible. Secure and spontaneous. Expanding and enveloping. Clear and…confounding.
And I realize that I am living in a complete mystery.
With my soul mate.
1 comment:
LOVELY! I agree completely. You did what I definitely couldn't do. In mine I spent more time beating around the topic. I really enjoyed reading it; it was extremely poetic and beautiful.
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