It Is Always

In the soft-sweet chambers of the dreaming human heart, hope draws its finest breath. There, in the rhythmic blood-flow butterfly-filled moment, the bond begins. There the ineffable connection between two people, exquisite as the diamond-lacing of morning dew on a blade of grass, all the fathoms of the soul strong, is born. There ,love begins, and, if we stay out of its way, grows. It is life and death’s finest gift. It is always.
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A Beautiful Breathing Truth

What now this fear of love?

This fear to allow yourself full length into the heart of another, and allow them full length into your heart. What good the fear? What good if all it does is guarantee the solitude of your soul, keeping the undeserved chill in your heart perpetually, a chronic ticking loneliness.

What now this fear of love?

I challenge it. Alone now, maybe. But I lay down the challenge. Life is too short. Mine is. Isn’t yours? Anyone’s? To allow the fears born of our histories so much sway they rob us still? I say fuck that.

What now this fear of love?

Challenge it. Isn’t it really the fear of being unloved? Now that, my dear reader, is scary. Love is a beautiful breathing truth. It makes all things grow, flourish, breathe, live! The blooming tip of possibility unveiled! Yes, for you too.

What now this fear of love?

I say banish it.

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