I sought for love. It poured upon me like rain, but I did not know it. I read The Book. I searched the words of love’s author, but I did not understand them. I toiled for love. I thought to make myself worthy, but it would not yield to my striving. I searched within. I would find something to sell for it, but it cannot be bought.
What cannot be given unless first received yet cannot be received unless first given? What can be shared only if already held by more than one? What is infinitely complex yet childishly simple? This is the mysterious gift that we call love.
Oh Love, why do You dwell silently beyond the reach of man? His heart yearns for You even though he may not know it. He was maid by You and for You. He cannot live without You. You are here, but how can we see You? You made for us a way, but how do we find You?
I sought for love. In a desert of my own making, I looked to the sky, and allowed a single drop to pass through my parched lips. I read The Book. In a valley of despair the truth began to refresh a dying spirit. Love moved me. I could not be worthy, and yet it came to me. I searched within. I found a gift I knew not of. I knew that I could give it away and yet keep it.
What is the form of a thing without shape? How can a thing be shown that cannot be seen? Can glorious purpose be fulfilled by a mere lump of clay? Such did He decree, and such did He become.
Oh Love, You came, and lived within the reach of Man. You yearned for us, and showed Yourself that we might know it. We were made by You and for each other. You are here in these tents of flesh. Your Spirit shows the way.
Every cord that binds us together is an expression of Your love. It is in the doting father, the trusting child, the bond of friends. Some of these things I know. Some I may not know on the earth, but I have no lack. For you have given me a lover, so that I may see how I love You and how You love me.
Exquisite hands move over my skin. I am caught and I never want to get away. I melt into the embrace. Long fingers are laced with mine on the table, and I begin to see. There is no greater love than this, except that love which made it. My beloved will always be beautiful to me, for the love we share is eternal.