Love in truth is not the matter of a moment but something that takes a lifetime to build. It is not the roaring of hormones or the racing of blood through veins. Love is instead the quiet behind those things that says let’s walk through life together because all though it won’t stop the problems at least there will be someone I can look to and see smile in the storm. The truth of love is that it is in the quiet gifts of service, the moments when one puts self last in such a quiet way that the other doesn’t notice, the times when the giving hurts and the rewards are not there. Love should require no reward.
Love is not formal, it doesn’t have rules. It is the breath of wind in trees. At some moments strong, at other times weak, but a constant. Love can not be owned, nor demanded, nor can it be defined for another because their walk through love is different from yours. It is eternal. It is brief. It may be killed by a word or action that has no power for you. It is mindful of the needs of the other and does not decree how love should be. It is the conversation of a lifetime together and has to be. Words built on words that define one word “love” and though it changes over time it will only become more beautiful. Love has no need of nice clothes, nice food, the trappings of a society because as we take those on and add them to the word we loose focus on the true object of our desire, another spirit as lost and alone as we are.
Love is not defined by race, or colour. It is not defined by gender, age, or faith. It is above these things. Love can not conform because it is a condition, human, it is without eyes except for the one who it chooses.
Love bends and breaks. It is patched and mended, worn and discoloured. but love is strong enough to bear the brunt of all the journey has to throw at it. Overtime it becomes like a well worn coat. Its comfort becomes second nature to us and we no longer value you it in our first thoughts. But when it rains or the wind blows we once again begin to feel its true value.
Love is not sex or passion, it is not brave or strong. It is the weakness to say you are human and imperfect and I love you for that. It is the ability to grow old together and look upon the aging as a work in progress. The new becoming closer to the divine and more perfect with each grey hair. It is the comfort that we shall see the completion of a life and not just the part where life was fast and excitement was the goal. It is the passing of life as well as the living of it, the memory of a soul as well as the walk with one. It is eternal.
Love is the walk from fields of green grass into winter snows because together the walk is beautiful. It is never wishing to walk the journey again because there is nothing you would change.