Love.

Love. The dictionary lists it as such: 1. an intense feeling of deep affection. 2. a person or thing that one loves. 3. feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone). But the nature of love is ineffable. It can only be found in between heartbeats just before a crush replies to a message In the bittersweet parting of souls so sweetly entitled goodbye, fare thee well, or adieu. It can be found in the heat two bodies share on a cold winter’s morning In the clasp of two hands, a makeshift locket to keep safe the secret the secret of vulnerability. For love is dangerous. Unrequited, it eats away at the heart, and mind equal in measure to a terminal illness. Intensely, it careens past caution and pleas alike, not unlike a runaway train, one bend away from derailment and, like a murmur, it can become lost in the wind leaving only breathless desperation in its wake But love is like many things, for its influence exceeds that of any man, movement, or idea. For love is an emotion seldom, if ever absent from the mammalian heart. We love many things, many people, many ideas, even the idea of love itself. we become infatuated with its allure, and do anything and everything in our power to firmly grasp something which has no shape with which to grab purchase upon instead we are left longing, remembering our mother’s cooing lullabies, the warmth and softness of our first puppies hair the heat and heartbreak of first and last kisses. In our childhood, we learn love. In adolescence, we learn anger In teenage years, we learn sadness in adulthood we realize that you never truly completely learn these things. instead, with every day we must fill the void within ourselves with these lifelong lessons. there is a saying that there is a battle within us all, two wolves endlessly assailing one another. The one that wins is the one you feed. Let it be love.