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Love is a living thing.
It is real...
And deeper than we know
It rules all that we are.
Love is not blind...
Love is light.
It isn't blind to imperfections
But knows that the truth
Lies somewhere deeper
Than beauty...
Than mistakes...
Deeper than our failings.
It sees the beautiful soul.
Yes...
Love sees the beautiful soul.
But...
Love is a living thing.
We must tend to it...
Care for it...
Nurture it.
If love is just "magic"
Then we think that it needs nothing...
That it will tend to itself
And fend for itself
Without our participation or interest...
That it will find its own magical way
And renew itself again and again
No matter what we do to it...
No matter how we treat it.
Love is not magic...
It is a living thing...
A living thing that grows or wanes...
That starves or flourishes...
That blooms or grows fallow...
That shines of its own quiet beauty
Or becomes one's own personal shame.
All we need...
Is to respect it and cherish it
In order to keep it...
Because love isn't some kind of magic at all...
Love... is a living thing.
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