Love and its forms is the subject of many outlets. It is described as mesmerizing and enchanting, cruel and fleeting. Its praises have been sung and its disparaging effects have been felt by most all in one desperate way or another.
The confusing part of something so grand is the different angles and shapes that it takes in our everyday lives. I sit and think upon all the things I love and how each and every one is reserved its own special type of love and all that they hold.
I feel sweet love for my family and a happy and whole love for my daughter. I feel a deep and burning love for my lover and a clinging love for my words. I feel a low love for my past and a hopeful love for my future. I sing a love for the music and scribble my love for the literary works.
They all hold importance in my life. They each have their place of importance and I do their part in making me who I am, whoever that is. Slowly, I’ve begun to realize that all the things that I love most in my life are the things that are patient and understanding with me when I am at my lowest and deepest points. When my days are black, I know that who and what I love most will be forever by my side. This has brought me to a place of thankfulness in my life. I am appreciative of those that love me enough to stand by my side even as I wish to be left alone.
I find myself in love in so many ways with so many people, inspirations and things. In the past I have found it necessary to doubt the very existence love and all the things it holds but I have yielded to its wholeness and power. I owe my life to love and live to repay my debt in full.
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