Love is the way messengers from the mystery tell us things.
Love is the Mother
We are Her children.
She shines inside us, visible-invisible, as we trust
Or lose trust, or feel it start to grow again.
Stands for all things,
Even for those things that don't flower,
For everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing,
Though sometimes it is necessary
To reteach a thing its loveliness,
To put a hand on the brow of the flower,
And retell it in words and in touch,
It is lovely
Until it flowers again, from within, of self-blessing.
- Galway Kinnel