It [Love] is not a word, nor a single action.
In truth, it can never be wrong
Like the sunrise, perfect in every possible way.
It is many things and yet it must exist
In the small space of the heart.
Once found it can bloom endlessly, with no cease.
It can choke one's throat, bring one to tears..
But it never hides in shadows or in darkness
It never feeds itself on deception.
It grows with trust, honesty and compassion.
Nothing less, always more..
