And what of love?

And what of love?

That drives down relentlessly
like rain on window pane
singing a strong yet delicate symphony
of newness, freshness,
yet builds to overwhelming flow
like waves
which lap the shore
crescendos into more,

water pours from split rock
in the desert places,

and what of love in these spaces?

Clouds broken,
you are my beloved,

words spoken,
you are precious,

hope awoken,
you are beautiful.

And what of love?

Nothing but gift,
rained relentlessly,
bestowed from above.

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