All I can seem to think and write about is love. I want to write about every kind of love imaginable. The different kinds of love I experience with places, people, God, music and movies and books, sincere words, strangers, nature.
I have a habit of looking up at the sky and staring at the clouds, trying to make out their shapes. Sometimes just noticing how amazing everything is up there, especially on a clear day. But lately I look up at the sky as if I’ve never truly seen it. Imagining what it’s like to be that high. Wondering what is it like beyond the clouds and blue ceiling.
I gaze at the sky, mesmerized. Attempting to understand it’s beauty and all that it is.
I don’t know when love hit me like this.
Love, in all its forms, grabbed my heart, filled my eyes, and soaked through my skin until it flowed like blood through my veins.
I am in love with the soft white clouds. Obsessing over how it’s covered with the perfect shade of blue. And when the sun hides behind the clouds and wraps them in silver lining, it’s the equivalent of the smile on a lover’s face—a smile that you placed there.
My heart longs to know the moon and the stars. The beautiful darkness. The faraway galaxies fill me with wonder and amazement.
How can anything be so beautiful?
So complex, but simply beautiful.
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