Love grows in the light. Where it is shining, it blossoms.
Even when you are no longer in my field of vision. It is often sung at night.
Sometimes it is just a soft sigh. At other times it is a few moments in a row. Consciousness cannot experience eternity.
They are counted from the season called spring.
It cannot be measured in time and duration, where hopes and longings seem great, wonderful or small, and often not even in measure. It cannot be grasped with one hand and cannot be explained in words.
It's overwhelming. It colours your awareness. Sometimes at the end of contemplation, in depth, in silence...
Love as a bearer of challenges.
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