My Love...

My Love is a complicatedly, simple, benevolent expression of will; always active and always objectively directed for the fruition of itself.

My Love is an expression of will bound to the impossibility of being willed to express, regardless of exertion.

My Love is all the pain, all the sorrow, all the deaths, all the conditional catalyst that made and continues to make all the pleasure, all the joys, all the life, and all the unconditional sustenance.

My Love is the beginning and the end to the circle of life.

My Love is the anticipation for the season coming, and letting go of the season passing, with the lessons of seasons past.

My Love is surrendering for empowerment.
My Love is an imperfect pursuit of perfection.

My Love is seeking, seeking for those moments given through all the guises of ego, seeking for the inexplicable desire to desire, seeking for the acceptance, seeking for the touch, seeking for the glance, for the embrace.

My Love is the crucible in which hell burns everyday, giving way to the grace of the next.

My Love is the seventh day.
My Love, My Love, My Love My Love
You are My Love
and this is…
My Love for you.

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