> From this.
Love is what unfolds from the desire of the heart. The rose that blooms even when the world is shrouded in snow — the kiss of immortality. It is the eagle feather which is held in solemn trust, for to call upon the Creator… Behold what presses you on in the darkest of the ways, through to the other side. It is the end of the journey, when home is found again, sometimes at a new place — for home can be known in many ways. Love is to know what is right. Do you wonder what love might be, and what love might be to you? Why do you seek after something that you can find in simplest terms, within your very grasp?
Love is everything you think it is. It can hurt you and blind you, it can make you despair, and it can frustrate your every thought and movement. But if it is love, you will find that all of whatever you have been put through is worth it. Well worth it. And what is more: you will have an idea why all of this, all you touch and all you see, is the way it is. Maybe to scry where you are drawn in the great blueprint the Builder meticulously inscribed, checked and double-checked, and to know you are not no one: you have a place, and you have a purpose. For this is love: where heaven touches down to earth, through the heart, through our intentions, and through our very hands: no one else’s, for our footsteps are the only paths that love may follow. No one else’s.
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