Love is many different things.

It is a finely crafted point;
Used to swiftly place that point to the vulnerable place deep inside us, sharp and critical.
Like a rapier it dances around and parries through the denial of it's direction, to where we believe it to strike piercingly true.

Love is also a dangerously sharp edge;
It can be wildly wielded, but dangerously double edged when carelessly applied broadly in many directions.
Like a battle axe, it is swung with all it's might and purpose in order to display the strength and passion of it's meaning.

Regardless of how you demonstrate the prowess of how you Love;
Make sure it's edge is never dulled,
And make sure it's point never falters.

Surrounded by nature,
The elements unite.
Wind.
Earth.
Wood.
Metal.
Fire.
Water.
They combined and alone, bend, warp, give;
And acquiesce their dominion.
"Behold, Humans!
What say you? What do you bring to the balance of harmony and majesty of nature?
We, our mutual home, seek to understand the truth of your contribution."
      "Love."
   "Yes, and Compassion."
        "Yes! We, as humankind; seek to bring ourselves closer despite Roaring Winds, Harsh Earth, Deep Woods, Shining Metal, Crackling Fire, and Torrential Water."

  "Let us live together, and live harmonious with nature."
"Humans, let us share in your harmonious love. And, we will share our forces with your compassionate will."
"Love one another, and our harmony and joy will be made full."

It's a just a spot.
A small spot, on the back of my neck.
The slight touch, like a warm hug or a quick moment of clear mind; to be lost in the feeling of it.
A tingling sensation of feeling.
She isn't terribly pretty, and has no idea or intentions. She lowers my head back, reclined and relaxed. A surge of water, and soapy fingers through my hair; a firm tousle with a towel, as if for a thorough finality of that aimless frivolity.
To the chair.
Her hands are skilled and carefully attentive. Not a thing out of place, that's the plan. Asking, making sure it's ok. With a plan of attack and a mutual understanding of what's to be done, we talk.
Meaningless awkward talk.
It's coming. I twitch at the anticipation of it's warm steel purpose.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
My neck is warm, and slightly tingling. Am I blushing? Better than blood flowing anywhere else, cause it only really is meant for the feeling of my nerves. Almost nothing else to read into it.
But, oh; that feeling!
I'm lost in the feeling of it.
...
"Hey! How does that look?"
She's asking. Where was I again?
It looks good.
"That'll be Fifteen, John*."
Great, thanks.
See you next month, I tell her.
I think I'm still blushing.

Throughout all of time, and even at one (or any point); There was you.
For me; time swirled in memories of fixated moments in time, surrounding me and attempting to distract the reality of time as I percieved it.
For you; Time was passing differently yet somehow you began to understand the fixation of time at certain points .
Such a distraction for you, you've told me.
Despite the vast distances of space, you and I will be joined by the intersection of moments in time; revolving around each other, coming closer and closer.
Till that moment, shared in time,
A most wonderful singularity.

I figured it out.
I figured while watching you out in the rain.
From the obscured viewpoint of the warmth and safety of my seat, clashing against the temperature at odds with the outside, in  foggy condensation at my window.
Watching you,
Cold and wild
Wet and Savage.
You. You are the reason, I think.
I think.
For the expression,
"Hasn't enough sense to come out of the rain"

It is not hopelessness.
Simply the realness.
Cold and fully factual,
Empty,
Merciless.
Unhindered by
Untempered by
The heart's softening.
Logical
Calculated
Weighed and measured.
It is
As always
No more than that
It is what it is
And no less.