It lingers without cause.
Under the rocks in life.
Love lives in our wilderness.
Existing in ribs, broken.
Incurable as time itself.
Love grows and shrinks.
Never really leaving.
True to the opportunity of the now.
Love is a compendium of saints.
Crashing songs and sonnets and moments.
Creating the vertex on which we dance.
Love is long.
Life is short.
We are in the middle of an upside down mountain.