I Believe That Love Is Magic.
I believe that love is one of the most potent, magical powers in the universe. Wonderful things can be accomplished with love.
Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese-American author, had this to say about love: “Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.” I would agree would good Gibran.
Yes, if life is a kite, then love is the wind. If life is a letter, love is the stamp. If life is a Q, love is the U. If life is a raft, love is the river. If life is a stage, it is love that pulls open the curtain. It is love that makes a house a home.
Love is eternal; and love counts down the days until a loved one’s return. People have uprooted their existence and crossed oceans, mountains and plains for love; and they have built houses and settled down for love. Love is vulnerable, love is brave. It can bring you the greatest peace, it can make you neurotic. Love is mysterious, but when it’s right, nothing makes more sense.
Love is a magic, crimson thread. It’s the thread that binds, the thread that mends. It’s the thread one can follow to the center of the heart. It’s the thread that stitches lives together.
In the beginning love is romantic meaning it can be fanciful, impractical and unrealistic.
Oh, at love’s birth, things fanciful, impractical and unrealistic are the very mother’s milk love grows on. But worry not. Sincerity, concern, generosity and benevolence are the very DNA of love. So while love, in its fiery youth may be vain and flighty, dreamy and fickle it will mature into something sober, comfortable, caring, gentle, vigilant. Something blind, something true. And it will carry with it the antibodies against jealousy, avarice, selfishness and envy which it survived in its infancy.
Love heals. Love finds the cure. Love ennobles. Love gives thanks. Love notices the details. Love is a knee to bounce on, a shoulder to cry on. Love is the warmest blanket. Love is the most beautiful accessory. Love is the amber that captures and preserves our fondest memories.
Sacrifice is as fixed to love as fragrance is fixed to the flower. But sacrifice, when done for love is not so painful as other sacrifices. Because love puts the promise back in compromise and the passion back in compassion.
We have all seen love. We have seen it in the calluses on our father’s hands, in his sore back. It is the hand that holds the swaying bicycle. You’ll see it cheering on the sideline. You’ll see it in your mother’s graying hair, in the worry lines on her forehead. Love is found in the hand that holds the cloth that cools the fever. Love is found when she stands in her front yard and gazes up at the moon and wonders if her child far away might be doing the same.
Love is the most fluid, expressive language. It can be expressed with a hug, a glance, a kiss, a laugh, a sigh, an intertwining of your fingers into mine.
And, sometimes, it nice to just say it loud.
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