Love is you

 

Love is not a letter without a sender, a place without contemplation or people, a sick body, love rises and expands, grows and encompasses the infinity of the heavens. Love is the bridge, but so are the banks, and the river and the fountains, and courage. Love is madness, sweetness, hot broth, burning, innocent and longness. It looms large and accepts no limits, no oppressions, no other latitudes, no other faces, no other souls. Love is destined, it is urgent, it is incandescent lava without a boss, nor proletariat, love is sky and sea, it is arms that want to embrace, love is complicity and torment, truth and ointment, love is not constrained by it, it is high, virtuous, it is free from vanity and so full of goodness. Love reveals itself, shows itself, and reveals itself in its shapes or defects, because it delights in the completeness of understanding and understandings, it is exempt from taxes, lies and false truths, it is untouchable, inviolable, and does not suffer sanctions. Love is the serenity of dismembering shadows, to clarify truths, love is destiny, it is folly, desire and meekness, love is born within, has wings and flies without GPS or compasses, nor requirements nor rottenness, love is a giant that suddenly takes hold of us and does not wait to be shouted at. Love is foam of life and joy, love is August and December, spring in bloom, this is love, made of sap, of clear waters, of involuntary wills, breaking inertia, he doesn't mind being ridiculed, because love is freedom in a breath, love is libertarian, love is the fuel of humanity, without stumbling blocks and full of longing, this is authentic love, whole, irreproducible and alien. You can't choose, you're born ready-made, without strategy or rationality, love is a shelter, not a deceiver. And when you try to limit it, to frame it, to think about it, it renews itself from within, it immerses itself and comes back to the surface, more glorious, more surviving, more averse to control, more expeditious, more combative, love does not die, if it is love it does not die. Love is gregarious. A heart beats in everyone's chest, love lives there, and rises through the mouth and becomes a fire and incendiary, the fingers reach out in a hand to touch the lips of the beloved, love is comprehensive, love is wasteful, love is current and so often ignored, declared dead, autopsied, but love does not take pleasure in the voracious attitudes of its leaders. Love is consequential and neglected, sometimes sick, enslaved, but when their end is decreed, it rises again, and grows with direction, in a conscious manifesto, with seeds of candor and memories of the heart. Love is manifest and manifestation. If you touch it, it infects you, without the need for a zip code, email or any condition, any direction you want to give it, because it is autonomous, because it is prioritized, because it is emphasized, because it is multiplied. Love is not shoppable, negotiable, or a place for emotional blackmail. Love is the only veil that unites us between the earth and the divine, love is believing, kind, compassionate, understanding and omniscient, it is obligatory on this plane and has arisen to be decreed alive eternally. That's what love is, after all.