She moved calmly and carefully, through the corridors of her home.
She had been broken.
Alas, every own touch filled her heart with gratitude and love.

She had thought to herself.  It does begin with this ending.  It does come to a conclusion, of none other than, the love that waits ahead.

She feels it in her bones.
Love is waiting, patiently, to find her. In all her broken sorrow, and happy trials, carrying baggage at the door. Love is beginning, with pleasurable ending, coming into her soul.
Finding the home that rests in her.


She stares upon the eyes.
Finding adoration, and care, willingness, and confidence as well as brilliance and humility.  
She falls into what was always waiting for her.
Unbeknownst to her, love is just.