
Love is a furnace, destruction, unsparing. It will burn anything in its path. It is unsentimental, reducing to ashes the unreal, the pretense, the lies, the half truths, anything that is not immediate, alive, firsthand, touchable.
Love will smash every preconceived notion of love, the fairy tales we so badly wanted to believe in. Love has no interest in our hopes, fantasies, plans. Love is uncertainty too. Love is feeling as unsafe as you felt when you were first thrust into this uncontrollable world, torn out of the security of the womb, battle weary, but breathing on your own for once.
Love cannot be destroyed but destroys the love dreams of the mind. Love cannot be lost, cannot be taken, yet allows the loss, too, outlives all that is not you.
Love is not a feeling, because feelings come and go, and love does not, or else it is not love, but a fleeting dream.
Do you know how vast your heart is? How your heart was formed with all these other hearts in a place of unbearable pressures at thr core of a dying star? How your heart is made from the stuff as my heart, the heart of every living being?
Grandmother disappeared into it. They all did. The billions that came before. The ones who left. The ones you tried to forget. They all returned to your heart, nourished you.
Your heart is overflowing; your path is clear; you are unstoppable now.
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