Love Is

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There is love in the face of it,
on the whole of it,
between the cracks of it,
on the surface of it,
when we think we are looking
for the answers to the hardest questions,
it is love,
when we wonder what lies
over the rainbow,
and give up in despair
because the golden pastures
seem so far away,
it is love that is there,
and it has never not been.
Love is not hiding; nor are we.
We are searching for it
in all of its guises,
we are in the process;
we laugh, cry, scream, wonder,
roar from the belly in anger,
twist and rise and howl like a tornado
in the pining for something
sensed, barely known.
And the eye of the storm is love,
and the aftermath of the terror is love,
and the dawn before the break of day
might just be when we can feel love
most palpably, in its purest form,
before it all unsettles and blows away,
so we can soak it in, lap it up,
be a body full sun-soaked love,
imbibing the love that is imbued
with the love of all the distant lands,
and we can be fierce in our protection
of love and all it stands for,
and we can bow in gratitude, humble, awed,
as love fills the pink-streaked sky at day’s end,
contemplating what has been lost,
knowing love never is.

– TS

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