Maybe that's not what love is. Maybe it's a journey,
similar to walking amidst the mountains, holding your jacket close while the winds of solitude penetrate it. While you measure the profound silence around you, and the coo of a bird wakes you up.
Maybe you are looking in the wrong direction, trying to gauge things with a compass. Maybe you need to get lost to be found. Maybe you need to be broken before loved. Maybe you need to cry before you smile forever.
Maybe that's what love is, a journey, a pathway, to be one with yourself, to be called upon by the nature, to reach that mountain top, and take off that jacket and letting the cold, rummage through your skin,
And the wind, setting you free.
