Love mountains adventure and the clock
Possibly that is not what love is. Perhaps it's an excursion,
like strolling in the midst of the mountains, holding your coat close while the breezes of isolation enter it. While you measure the significant quietness around you, and the coo of a winged animal awakens you.
Possibly you are glancing in an inappropriate area, attempting to check things with a compass. Possibly you have to persuade lost to be found. Perhaps you should be broken before adored. Possibly you have to cry before you grin until the end of time.
Possibly that is the thing that affection is, an excursion, a pathway, to be unified with yourself, to be called upon by the nature, to arrive at that peak, and remove that coat and letting the chilly, scavenge through your skin,
Furthermore, the breeze, liberating you.
