Love.

Simple. Concrete. Easy.

Love is a thing of beauty.

A masterpiece created with broad strokes strewn across the canvas haphazardly.

Love happens to us. Falls upon us, or us upon it.

It engulfs us, transports us, reorders us in a single breath.

Love is a force.

Outside ourselves, beyond our control. An overwhelming, uncontrollable urge, a voice so loud it shakes our very being.

It screams our name and demands that we answer, now, NOW.

Love cannot be ignored.

Love cannot be ignored.

It whispers quietly, “I’m here, always. Take your time.”

Tucked into the deepest corners of our being. A choice to be made, a voice so quiet we often mistake it for nonsense.

Love is a whisper.

It patiently waits, chipping away inch by inch, year by year at our hardened hearts.

Love offers itself up, to be embraced or rejected at will.

A masterpiece created with careful strokes, each one in its place.

Love is a thing of beauty.

Complex. Abstract. Exhausting.

Love.